


Hope/Ryland Series

by Yoselin



Series: L&L Tumblr Prompts [31]
Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 06:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16676368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoselin/pseuds/Yoselin
Summary: Derived from Prompt 15, Hope/Ryland series grouped together.“Don’t lie to me.”“Trust me.”“Hold me and never let me go.” / “Don’t be afraid.” / “There’s nothing wrong with you.”“Feels like home.” / “I wish I had never met you.”





	1. “Don’t lie to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is Prompt 15 from my L&L prompts compiled together.

The chains of the prisoners rattle as they walk. The clink of their shackles echoes the pounding of my heart. I feel every sound somewhere deep within me. Perhaps it is my heart’s way of reminding me that I am at their standing.  
I draw my hood tighter against myself and shiver in place.  
The morning-if it can be called that in eternal darkness-is frigid. Ever since the Witch Queen rose to power, every single day has been cold. Spring and Summer have fallen prey to the freezing tides of winter. Time no longer exists and warmth is a long lost memory.  
I bite my lip hard and edge closer to Magnus as another freezing breeze hits me. His armor provides no heat, nor does the cold look he gives me, yet the semblance of warmth is enough.  
“How many prisoners are here?” I murmur it under my breath, not quite sure I am at liberty to speak. After two years of lost freedom, I’ve programmed myself to bite my tongue and keep my eyes down. It is hard to break this habit by talking.  
Magnus glances at me, gives me a dismissing look from the corner of his eye, and leans forward on the balcony so his fists are clenched around the metal barrier. He doesn’t look back at me as he answers.  
“13. We’ve captured the last of Wolfson’s forces and have successfully put down the rebellion. The leader of the resistance is among them. We are victorious at last,” he grins. His smile is as freezing as the air around us. I suppress a shiver.  
I glance down at the line of prisoners being walked one by one to the dungeons. Their heads are down, I can not see if there is anyone I recognize, nor can I find their leader amongst them. Nevertheless, I feel their lost freedom as deeply as I feel my own.  
My fingers dig into my coat and I force myself to reel in my emotions. “That is it then? With the captain gone, our Queen is victorious?”  
Magnus moves away from the balcony, places a hand on my back and guides me forward, he nods his assent. “She reigns true at last.”  
I clench my jaw.  
It has been two years since the previous lord was slain in battle, a year and a half since his retainers scattered, a year since they were each hunted down, and half a year since the lands were conquered and divided up.  
Each General, loyal to the Queen, received their own territory. To Magnus went the human domain. To Jinhai the elven domain. To Lennox the fairy domain. To Helena the dwarven domain. To Yovith the bones of the demon domain. And to Alain the capital.  
Each General received their own lands and their own rewards.  
In the two years that have passed, they have been successful in quelling resistance. Rebels were slain at the blink of an eye, dissent was quelled with force, and hope was extinguished like a match.  
I bite the inside of my cheek.  
The new rebellion, the one that stemmed in the capital and spread outward, was the last chance this world had at hope. Now, it has been put down like the rest and its members have been locked away. Even its leader, as resilient and brave as the stories claimed he was, is in shackles.  
I tighten the coat tighter against myself and force my voice to sound as uncaring and neutral as possible. After two years, I still struggle.  
“What will happen to them? What will become of the prisoners? And the captain?” I pretend to pluck a stray hair from my coat.  
“We will question them,” Magnus replies, “and see how much they know. Once that is over, they shall join their peers at the gallows and their leader shall be first. Our Queen has given the order to stomp out the resistance once and for all. Executing their prized fighter first will ensure further dissent is quelled.”  
I swallow painfully and press my fingers to my sides to keep them from shaking. So that is it then? This is how the world ends. With a final stand against a long lost war.  
My lips press into a thin line as I struggle to come up with a response. My dreams of escape had been nailed to this resistance, and now I feel them crumbling.  
This resistance was the last chance I had. Years ago, when I was taken from the midst of a conquered village, word of rebellion had kept me going. I hadn’t cared what happened to me trapped within these walls as long as a conflict brewed outside. If I could hold out long enough to see the rebellion prevail, then everything I endured was worth it.  
Now, this wish is squandered. I have no idea what I will do now that my shot at freedom has been taken from me.  
“Shall I order the guards to deliver a meal for the prisoners? The kitchen has some scraps,” I suggest. It is the only thing I can think of saying.  
My ears are ringing, my heart is pounding, and the despair of lost freedom is crushing me like a vice. It takes all the strength I have not to shatter like glass then and there. I must remain a pillar of strength and nonchalance before Magnus.  
When I was chosen 2 years ago, it was made clear what my duties were. Obedience and loyalty were high up on that list. If I step out of line, I will pay dearly for it.  
Magnus turns to look at me, blue eyes narrowed into thinly veiled suspicion, and scowls.  
“No. Let them starve,” he points a finger at me, “I want you no where near those men. Stay on your floor of the palace, you hear me?”  
“Yes,” I murmur.  
Magnus narrows his eyes. “ **Don’t lie to me.** Obey.”  
“I will not go near them.”  
Magnus stares at me as if looking for dishonesty. When he finds none, he makes a sound at the back of his throat and begins to walk away.  
With a final warning look, he rounds a corner of the palace and disappears. I watch him, count to a hundred to make sure he is gone, then close my eyes.  
My mind is abuzz with thoughts and plans. It is dangerous to disobey, but I need to see the echoes of the resistance. Perhaps if I see the men that were arrested, see the despair in their leader as they each face the gallows, I will be able to force myself to evade that fate.  
I clench my jaw and spin around. Rather than heading for my floor of the palace, I hurry towards the staircase leading to the dungeons.  
Two years ago, Magnus bid me to obey, but I am not so easily bent. 

Sneaking into the dungeons isn’t difficult. After two years of existing as a ghost in the palace, I’ve learned the art of stealth and secrecy. When your life is in danger every second of the day, when one wrong word can get you hung, or one misstep can end you, you learn to become a shadow.  
Because of this, I emerge into the dungeons successfully. The prisoners have all been locked away and their guards have emerged back into the hallways to await further instruction. This gives me a perfect opportunity to observe each cell.  
I walk through the hall with only the torches from the walls to guide me. I could easily make a fireball in my palm if l wanted to, but that would startle the prisoners. Thus, I am forced to rely on my failing night vision.  
Magnus said there were 13 prisoners earlier. I count the cells as I walk past. Most rows are empty, their occupants catching flies in the mass grave, but some host members of the resistance.  
I walk past each of them, count the steps in my head, and peer in close enough to see the men’s faces. Most are asleep or slowly dying. Magnus’ men spared no rebel in their conquest. Twice, I walk past prisoners slowly bleeding out. Once, I am sure I walk past a corpse.  
Still, I press on. I need to see their leader if only to warn myself. The leader of the resistance was a war hero. He was fabled to be the grandest fighter that had arisen from the ashes of the old Wolfson Retainers. He had risen and taken a place as a leader in order to lead humanity into a new era. The Generals hunted him down for years and were never able to catch him-  
Until now.  
I bite my cheek painfully and slide to a halt in the dungeons. There is now a fork in the hallway leading to opposite directions. One direction leads to the guard office, whose occupant is long past asleep, and the other leads to the cell of the prized fighter.  
I clench my jaw, reassure myself that I won’t be caught, and venture forward towards the cell. 

Unlike the other cells with the resistance fighters, this cell is grandly fortified. The bars are thicker and less spaced out, the light is less illuminated in order to confound the prisoner, and the floor is paved with fresh tracks meaning that the guards have only recently been here.  
I edge closer and wrap my arms around myself in order to keep myself from shivering.  
From my spot far from the cell, I can see a form pacing. The leader of the revolution paces back and forth and presses his hands to his forehead. I can practically hear the gears in his head grinding as he tries to come up with a way to escape. He’s desperate for some idea that will see him free. His hands claw at the cell wall almost as if he will find a hidden latch.  
I clench my jaw.  
There is no escape. Not from that cell. That cell, the one reserved for special prisoners, I know it like the back of my hand. I wasn’t always obedient, wasn’t always so resigned to my fate, so Magnus ensured I slept in that cell often.  
I edge closer and press my fingers to my cheek. Something about the way the man paces, like a caged animal in desperation, makes me feel nauseous. I know that feeling all too well.  
Hands shaking, I clear my throat. The sound is like a thunder clap in the quiet wing of the dungeon.  
“There is no escape from that cell,” I voice out. My words cause the figure to freeze and spin around. He presses to the cell wall and takes a defensive stance.  
I raise my hands in surrender, show him that I mean no harm, and edge closer.  
“That cell houses priority prisoners. Out of all the cells in this dungeon, that one is the most secure. You will never find an escape from that one,” I murmur.  
The figure glares at me, blue eyes narrow in hatred, and presses his hands to the bars. I see a fine web of scars and scabs across his knuckles.  
“There is always a way out. Hope is a powerful tool,” he clenches his fists against the bars.  
I press my fingers to my throat where my bruises ache the most. “Hope is ephemeral and fades like ink on paper. Escape is an impossible goal to achieve.”  
The stranger glares at me, does a sweep of who I am, and curls his lip in disgust. I see the way he takes in my clothing, the finest of silk and lace, and the glinting jewels at my throat. I must look like a noble to him, one of the turncoats that became wealthy when the Witch Queen rose up and appointed a new nobility.  
“Who are you? Have you come to gloat? ‘The rebellion is dead’. Isn’t that what General Richter told General Vestergaard in his speech when I was captured? Have you come to gawk at the ashes that remain?” He presses his face to the bars to get a better look at me.  
I don’t shy away from his gaze despite how hateful it is. Let him see who I am. He only has a few days of life left anyway.  
I raise my chin, clench my hands at my side, and look away from his piercing dark blue gaze.  
“I am no one.”  
He snorts. “Your clothes beg to differ. That cape you wear could feed my ranks for months and the necklace at your throat could provide us all with the finest of weapons. Are you a Renegade? One of those traitors that abandoned Lord Wolfson’s domain in favor of wealth and opportunity? Or perhaps a Bride? A girl that turned coats and married a soldier of the Witch Queen’s?”  
I say nothing. He reaches a bony finger out his cell and points at the ring on my finger. An ancient thing stamped with a crest I’ve grown to hate.  
“Oh, I get it now. The crest on your finger speaks volumes, my dear. I’ve heard your story whispered in the tents of my men as we prepared to fight each night. Your tale is one that the peasantry knows well. You’re Magnus’ bride. The one he whisked away from her family when he conquered the lands,” he shakes his head and gives a bitter smile.  
I clench my jaw so tightly I’m afraid my teeth will break.  
“So I am,” I press my ringed hand to my back in a futile attempt to hide the ring from view.  
The stranger moves away from the cell and sits on the stone cot behind him. His hands go for his jaw and he rubs at the stubble growing there.  
“Your tale is horrific, my dear. Magnus stole you from your family when he saw you during the invasion of the farm lands. He slaughtered your father when he tried to intervene then had your brother brought with you. He killed him too didn’t he? Made you watch as your brother bled to death so that you would know what fate would befall you should you flee. The ring on your finger was enchanted to it. The Sorceress Klein welded it to your skin so that you would be found should you run. You were-and are-Magnus’ little plaything.”  
My hands shake and I clench them tightly behind me. The groves of the ring I’ve grown to detest dig into my palm.  
The rebel is gauging my reactions, taking in every breath I take and blink I make, and assessing for a chink in the armor. I won’t give him the satisfaction.  
I straighten, raise my chin up high, and project false bravado. It isn’t hard, I’ve had years to master it. Magnus often likes to drag me around like a puppet to his meetings with the other Generals and the Queen so I’ve learned to look the part of a confident bride.  
“And you? I’ve heard your story too, my love. You were a former servant to the late Lord Wolfson. You rose to power after the Retainers were slaughtered and led your charge through the lands. Your name was whispered in hushed voices here in the palace, cursed by the Generals in their meetings, and damned by the Witch Queen. You were a legend among men. There was truly hope that you would be the one to depose the Queen. A shame you were undeserving of it.”  
I press my palms to the bars of the cell and lean forward so that he can see me clearly. I want him to see the false confidence in my gaze, want to fool him with it.  
I am a prisoner like him, but at least my leash extends longer. The chord wrapped around me binds me to a monster, but the one around him will be pulled taut in the gallows.  
The stranger glares at me-  
Then barks out a laugh. The sound echoes against the dungeons and I freeze in place worried that the guards will hear.  
He catches this momentary break in my mask and exploits it. He meets me halfway in the cell so that now we are millimeters apart and smirks.  
“Bravo, my dear, you play your part well. You speak high and mighty but I know your story. I used to repeat it to my men to give them inspiration-to let them know why we were fighting. I know you are a prisoner locked up in an ivory high tower with a dragon guarding you. You may fool those out there,” he points past me and out the dungeons, “but you can not fool me. You dress in the finery meant for a Princess, but you and I both know you are no better than me. We are both in chains, my dear, but at least mine are not welded to my finger.” He taps at the spot where my ring is.  
I move away, burn in humiliation and anger, and prepare to stalk off.  
He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “Oh, are we done yet, my dear? A shame. I have no other company.” He curls his finger towards him. “Come back, I’ll be nice to you, I promise.”  
He doesn’t sound very sincere. I clench my jaw and raise my chin to keep walking.  
He chuckles again, faintly amused. “My name is Ryland Goldhart, but you probably already knew that. What is yours, my ivory princess?”  
I make it to the edge of the dungeon, spin around, and glare.  
“I don’t have one.”  
Ryland raises his eyebrow. “Everyone has a name.”  
“Not me,” I raise my hood above my head, “he took that from me a long time ago.”

If there is one thing I hate worse than sharing a bed with Magnus it is eating with him. The dining hall is meant for an entire party of people, yet we are the only two present. The table is long and we sit at opposite sides with only an entire feast of food to hide us from view.  
I hate eating with him because of the quietness. I detest the deafening silence most of all. I can take his insults, his threats, his rage, but I can’t stand his quiet.  
My fingers clench against my wineglass and I raise it to my lips. I take a long mouthful of it, practically drain it in one go, and let it burn down my chest.  
Once I had hated alcohol but now it is a welcome reprieve.  
The silence in the room is palpable, but at least it is almost over. It takes Magnus about 720 chews to finish his meal. Once he is done, I am free to go.  
He’s on his 648. A few more.  
I keep my eyes on him and scan every inch of him. Despite his age, he’s remained fit. Were I to bolt, I would make it fifteen steps before he had caught up to me and slit my throat-  
Or perhaps simply activated the ring around his finger and made mine melt my hand off.  
I take another gulp of wine and let my mind wander. It drifts out of the dining hall and beneath the palace to the dungeons.  
The Resistance is to be executed in three days time, and Ryland will be the first to fall. His death will be a prized affair and every General plus the Queen will be in attendance.  
His execution will mark the end of the rebellion. Once Goldhart falls, it is over. No more challenge to the Queen’s authority, no more revolts, no more anything.  
I scrape my fork against the plate and swirl my food around. I don’t eat, the food tastes like ash to me, but I try to give the illusion of it. Once upon a time I had tried to starve myself if only to die and escape this prison, but Magnus had noticed and seen to that I was force fed with a tube to my nose. Now, I take few bites and give the illusion of eating.  
Ryland’s rebellion was the last hope I had. Out of all the revolts that had come and went, his was the one I could believe would be successful. His men had risen and taken back cities, they had slaughtered cultists and soldiers, and had given the Witch Queen a headache. His revolution was the final chance I had-the final hope I had.  
I swirl my fork around more and chew on my cheek.  
Going to the dungeons tonight had been a mistake, yet it is one I will repeat. What Ryland said about me being a prisoner was true, but I don’t want his mockery or pity.  
I am in shackles, but at least I can feign being free. Even the caged bird begins to sign within its confines if only to give the illusion of liberty. 

“The Generals will arrive on the morning of the execution. They have hunted the Resistance for as long as I can remember and they deserve to be here when Goldhart hangs. The Queen of course will also be in attendance and she will deliver a speech afterwords,” Magnus explains.  
I only half listen. My fingers are at my hair and are twisting the strands into a braid. The action serves as a distraction from thoughts of gallows and executions.  
“You will greet the Generals with me when they arrive. You know the drill,” Magnus glances at me from the mirror. I evade his gaze by fishing around for my hair tie.  
“Yes,” I whisper in reply. Weak though it is, it is enough for Magnus. He nods to himself and removes the last of his armor before setting it in the closet. Now in a loose fitting tunic and pants, he readies for bed.  
I grind my teeth and stand from my place too. I hate sharing a bed with him, but he will not tolerate me staying in a separate room. It isn’t proper for a bride to be away from her spouse.  
I inch like a turtle under the covers and give him my back. I make sure to tuck myself in tightly into my frame and press my lips into a line.  
“It’ll be over once they hang won’t it? The Resistance will be destroyed?”  
The question was more for myself than for Magnus, yet he heard it all the same.  
His hands move for me and turn me around. There is a possessiveness to his grip that makes my heart pulse with fear. I tense in his embrace and stay completely still as his fingers wander.  
“It will be over,” he replies. His voice is barely above a whisper. I tense once more and try to hide my revulsion as his mouth presses to mine.  
In three day’s time, the rebellion will be successfully put down.  
And I will be forever a prisoner. 

My second trip to the dungeon is easier than my first. I hurry past the rows of rebels before entering the secluded wing where Ryland is held.  
When I arrive, he doesn’t turn around. His fingers draw at the dust on the walls and scribble things down.  
“The ivory princess escaped the dragon once more. I was afraid I had scared you away, my dear,” he mumbles out. I cross my hands and clench my jaw.  
“I thought you might not want to starve.”  
I roll an apple into the bars of the cell and it comes to a stop by his leg. He bends for it, gathers it in his hand, and rolls it around in his palm.  
“Eve gave Adam the Apple and cursed humanity,” he taps at it.  
“Adam chose to eat it,” I rebuff.  
Ryland hums and tosses the apple up in the air before catching it. “That he did. I wonder if it was because it was Eve that asked him to do it or perhaps because he was tired of living in ignorance too.”  
Silence reigns then and he makes no move to eat it. I decide not to pry and cross my hands behind my back.  
“You will be executed in three days. I thought you should know,” I reply. He shrugs unconcerned and twists at the stem of the Apple.  
“You have a mark on your collarbone, my dear. It’s red and in the shape of a mouth. I thought you should know.”  
I flush and move my scarf so that it better hides the remnants of last night. “Shut up.”  
Ryland ignores me and continues to work at the apple. “I have to say, I’m surprised that someone of Vestergaard’s age can still keep it up. Impressive.”  
“What is your problem?” I grit my teeth.  
Ryland shrugs and stares at the way the apple reflects the dim lighting of the cell.  
“Nothing, my ivory princess. It’s just that i repeated your story so many times to my men that I believed in it. I used your story to inspire my men to fight, inspire them to rescue you, yet here you are alive and well. I thought there would be more of a haunted look in your eyes when we first met, perhaps even a tear or two, yet you look like any other Renegade. I guess I’m just disappointed.”  
I let his words sink in, turn them around in my head, and look away. “I’ve long ago stopped being a damsel in distress. I’ve accepted my fate.”  
Ryland clicks his tongue. “No, you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. That isn’t the same thing. Hope is a powerful thing that refuses to die no matter the circumstance. It fuels the poor, feeds the starving, and helps the prisoner. You, however, have given it up. That’s a dangerous thing. I told my men to lose their weapons, their limbs, and their minds, but never their hope.”  
I mull over his words, let them register, and rub at the ring on my finger.  
“You’re quite the orator, Goldhart. You’d really give Lennox a run for his money. You have so much hope yet you’re still here in this cage. Hope is a powerful thing, but it’s also a dangerous torture technique. When you have hope, it hurts to see it fail. I rather shed it now than suffer from a shattered spirit later.”  
Ryland snorts and rolls the apple around in his hands. “Giving up your hope is deadlier than seeing it crushed, my dear. Without hope, who are we? I am a prisoner of a cell but you are a prisoner of a palace. I can not roam free physically, but you can not roam free mentally. We are both trapped, but at least I believe that I will one day be set free even if it is death that does so. What can be said about you? Will you ever escape your tower or will you be forever confined?”  
It is my turn to click my tongue now. I claw at the ring on my finger, the skin beneath there itches, yet the magic renders it impossible to scratch. It is just another reminder that there is no hope of me ever making it out.  
“I will never be free and you will only get out of this cell to walk the green mile. Hope is useless,” I argue.  
Ryland pays me no mind. Instead, he continues to twist the stem of the apple. I watch him as the stick gets tighter and tighter.  
“When I was a kid, there was a game people would play with apples. You twist the stem and repeat a chant. When the stem breaks, you have your answer.” Ryland murmurs.  
I frown and say nothing. What need have I of childhood games?  
His fingers work at the stem and he mutters something under his breath.  
“You will be freed. You will not be freed. You will be freed. You will not be freed. You will be freed...”  
He repeats it until the stem breaks. Once it is cut, he raises it to eye level. “Look at that, you will be freed. Maybe you should reconsider your stance on faith.”  
I snort, press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, and look away. “A child’s game will hardly help you escape your shackles. You will only get out when you hang. Accept your fate like I have accepted mine. What good is hope when all is lost?”  
“All is never lost if you still have hope,” Ryland rebuffs. He meets my gaze with his own and I see something burning in his blue gaze. He actually believes what he says.  
I don’t. I stopped believing in freedom when my brother’s blood turned the palace’s white tiles red.  
“I wonder if hope will let you slip out your noose,” I dig my nails into my palms.  
Ryland shrugs and tosses the apple into the air. “Hope is what keeps me from becoming a true prisoner. You should take a page from that, my dear, it just might make your hell less terrible.”  
He extends the apple towards me and drops it at my feet. It rolls to a stop inches away from my shoes. I gather it and raise my eyebrow.  
“You’re not going to eat it?”  
He turns away from me and goes back to writing on his wall. With the dim light of the cell, I can’t tell what he is writing.  
“My men aren’t being fed. I will not eat when I know they are starving. I thank you for the sentiment, my dear, but keep it. Let it bring you some clarity of mind.”  
I make a face, turn it over in my palm, and scoff. “The apple is what cursed humanity. You said it yourself.”  
Ryland makes a sound at the back of his throat. “But it also gave it Enlightenment. You could use some of that.”  
He turns around so that he can see me and taps at his finger where my ring is on my hand.  
“Do not despair, my ivory princess, but hold on to the hope that you and I will one day be free. Yeah?”  
I clench my jaw, spin away, and shove the apple into my coat pocket.  
Hope is useless and believing that I will ever be free is dangerous.  
Ryland is wrong. We are both prisoners, but at least I am not a prisoner to my own false beliefs. 

I strain so that I reach Magnus and finish tying the last of his armor around him. He lets me work before tightening the straps I left too loose and motioning for me to step back.  
I do so and lower my gaze to the floor as he finishes his armor up. Interrogations are always a messy thing and Magnus will need as much armor as possible if he is to question the resistance on his own.  
“Is everything alright?” I whisper.  
Magnus hums. “Fine. I will be gone questioning the prisoners for a few hours. Stay in our room until then and wait for me to return. I don’t want you wandering around the palace. Understand?”  
I mumble an affirmative and don’t raise my gaze. Magnus finishes with his armor and reaches for me. He snags me and tugs me forward so that I am inches away from him.  
“I will be back before you know it. Be a good little wife and obey.”  
He brushes a kiss against my forehead that makes me tense before letting me go.  
I watch him walk away and wipe at the skin of my forehead. Letting him touch me or kiss me fills me with revulsion.  
I long for the time when I wasn’t just his plaything. Long for the time where freedom was something real and not something mourned.  
The apple in my coat feels heavy. 

The remnants of Magnus’ interrogation are plain in Ryland’s face the next day. He has new scabs and dried blood on his mouth and cheek. When I offer to bring him some ice, however, he refuses.  
It is now a day and a half before his execution and I am still making the mistake of coming to visit him. In truth, I have no idea why I continue to come if we fight more often than not, yet I still come.  
“Magnus did a number on you,” I tap at my jaw to show Ryland where the worst of the bruises on his face is.  
“I spit blood at his face so we’re even,” he shrugs. He sits opposite of me in his cell and picks at a scab on his hand.  
I press my knees to my chest and twirl the ring around my finger. It doesn’t actually move, the magic that binds the metal to my skin is too strong, but it serves to clear my head all the same. I work at it despite the pain it causes.  
“I don’t know what the point in interrogating you was. You have nothing to offer.”  
“I’m the leader of a revolution,” Ryland mutters.  
“A failed revolution,” I rebuff.  
Ryland manages to reopen an old scab and fresh blood spills out. He hisses and wipes at it with his finger. I pull out my handkerchief and reach past the bars of his cell. I toss the cloth at him and he catches it.  
“The interrogation was more for him than for the Witch Queen. There is nothing I will give them and no question I will answer. Magnus just delights in torturing others. He’s a sadist.”  
I clench my jaw. I know that well.  
I watch as he ties my handkerchief to his hand and fills the white silk with blood. It reminds me of the way the white floor tiles had turned red with the death of my brother, and the way the grass had been stained with my father.  
“Why did you fight your revolution if some part of you knew you would lose? You had to know it was a lost cause. You were outnumbered by the thousands yet you pressed on.”  
Ryland makes a sound at the back of his throat and meets my gaze. “I believed we could win.”  
I make a face and give another harsh yank to my ring. The skin flares up in pain but the ring doesn’t budge an inch.  
“You and hope. The Generals said you often regaled your men with long speeches and pitiful attempts at sermons, and they were right. You preach faith with every breath,” I mumble.  
“Because I believe, my ivory princess. I believe the Witch Queen will one day be taken down and freedom will reign again.”  
His words are so blasphemous and treasonous that I wince. I glance at the cell wing but there is no one around. Still, his words have made my heart race.  
“Careful,” I hiss, “they say she can hear treason.”  
Ryland laughs out loud. “Then let her hear.” He cups his mouth in his hands and raises his voice just slightly above a whisper-his form of shouting in a dungeon with guards stationed in other wings. “Fuck the Bitch Queen.”  
I wince again and scratch at my arms nervously. I opt to change the subject after another brief pause to see if the Witch Queen will not appear and smite us both.  
“In any case, where did your hope lead you? You’re stranded here with only a day to go before you hang.”  
Ryland shrugs, drags his finger against the dirt on the floor, and scribbles a small doodle of a pattern.  
“I held out in my fight for years, my dear. My men and I liberated a few towns that the Generals still can’t reclaim-“  
“Does it matter?” I interrupt. “A few towns is nothing. The Witch Queen has her military in every corner of the world. A town or two out of her grasp makes no difference-“  
“It made a difference to their inhabitants,” Ryland’s glare pierces me.  
I put my hands up in surrender and let silence sit between us. It lingers for a few uncomfortable seconds before he speaks up again.  
“You get on to me for having hope, yet you never told me why you lost yours. You were taken from your family years ago, but I’ve had men in my Resistance that have lost more and still believed. What made you lose yours?”  
His voice is quiet, unprying, and I clench my jaw. My fingers move to my cloak and I tug at the fabric strands.  
Flashes of memory override me. I see my father bleeding out on the grass and my brother bleeding out in the throne room. The flashes are gone in seconds yet my lungs still constrict.  
I dig my nails into the fabric and try to keep the tears out of my eyes.  
“When Magnus arrived at my village in the Coastal Domain, we were ordered to line up. They wanted to take the able men and women to the front lines. I lined up with my brother, my twin, and my father. Magnus and his soldiers came one by one. They took names, weights, and heights. After a while, they pulled people out one by one and had them march out into the front lines. My brother and I weren’t chosen. My brother was scrawny and I wasn’t strong, we wouldn’t be a good addition to the Witch Queen’s army. I thought that would be the last of it, I thought that meant we could stay with our village, but things aren’t so easy, are they? When we were leaving, I tripped. I went flying to one side and crashed into General Magnus Vestergaard himself. He caught me and moved his hand for his axe, but then he stopped. I don’t know what it was, the fear in my eyes, my youth, my face, I don’t know. But, rather than kill me, he told me he had something better planned. He turned to my father and brother and told them that I was to be his.”  
My throat tightens and I clear it. Ryland’s lips thin. “What happened then?”  
“My father refused. He said he would not let his daughter be taken by a monster. He tried to put up a fight but Magnus was stronger. With one hand around my waist and the other around his axe, he killed him. You know it’s funny, I watched my father die, yet you know what my first thought was? I saw the blood pool on the grass and my first thought was, ‘Can the grass even absorb blood?’”  
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my eyes begin to burn. Ryland says nothing, he just waits patiently for me to continue. I do so.  
“My brother was taken next. The soldiers decided to take him after all. He was supposed to be a bargaining chip for me, you know. He was supposed to be blackmail. I’d stay in the palace and he would fight for the Witch Queen all the while serving as a looming threat to me. An, ‘obey me or I’ll kill your brother’. It never worked out like that. My brother had this disease ...patterns and colors could cause violent attacks. When we got to the palace, he suffered a seizure of his. When Magnus saw it, he realized my brother would be no help as a soldier. So, he realized his bargaining chip was useless.”  
I clench my fingers together. I don’t want to continue but Ryland is quiet. He waits patiently for me to be ready and even extends his hands through the cell of the cage and takes my fingers in his. A silent show of support. My throat burns.  
“He killed him. His blood splattered everywhere and it got on my face. I screamed and screamed until Magnus presses his hand to my mouth and told me to shut up. He told me that same fate would be mine if I disobeyed. Then, to make sure it was really instilled in me, he made me mop up my brother’s blood and dig his grave myself. Then, as if that wasn’t enough to guarantee obedience, he brought General Klein. Magnus was owed a reward by the Queen, so he decided that I would be his. The Queen let him keep me and ordered Helena to ensure I never left. Helena took Magnus’ heirloom and melted it into my skin with her magic. The ring can never be taken off, and Magnus can track me down with it no matter where I go.”  
I finish my story and take a deep breath. My head is pounding from the stress and I let go of Ryland’s hand.  
“Now, wouldn’t that kill your hope too?” I stand from my seat and dust my dress off. “I’ve been trapped in this palace long enough to see multiple revolts like yours spring up and die. I’ve learned long ago not to hold my breath waiting for help anymore.”  
Ryland stands too, dusts himself off, and presses to the bars of the cage.  
“You’ve suffered...but you’re not alone. My Resistance may be quelled but don’t lose hope. You will get out of this, my ivory princess, you will get out.”  
I shake my head and exhale. “Death is the only escape.”

That night during dinner, I suffer through silence again. Magnus is on his 47th bite while I’m on my second wine glass. I try push Ryland’s words out of my mind but they linger.  
Hope is a very dangerous thing that could harm more than help. Ryland is an optimist but optimists are chewed up and spit out in our world. There is no such thing as a happy ending. Not while the sky outside is in eternal night and winter reigns true.  
I reach for an apple from the table and twirl it around my fingers. Magnus watches me carefully yet I ignore him.  
Mimicking Ryland, I twist the stem around over and over again. Mentally, I repeat a chant in my head.  
Hope is alive. Hope is dead. Hope is alive. Hope is dead-  
The stem breaks. I watch it fall to the table quietly.  
Hope is dead. 

The final day of his life rolls around and I find myself once more in the dungeons. For a man about to die tomorrow, Ryland seems to not care. He turns down the meal I brought for him today, a slice of brandy cake, and refuses to budge.  
“You haven’t eaten in three days,” I murmur.  
“My men haven’t either. I won’t eat while they starve in their cells. I thank you, my ivory princess, but I am not that type of leader. Vestergaard may dine with you while his soldiers starve on the front lines, but I won’t.”  
He drags the fork around the ground and scribbles doodles into the dirt. I watch him and grind my teeth.  
“You’re not scared? You’re dying tomorrow Ryland.”  
“I am aware. Death looms over us every day, my dear, I’ve learned not to fear it. When I started my revolution, I knew I would die. I took precautions for it and prepared. I am not afraid now. I just regret I could not live to see this world-and you-free.”  
I shake my head and press my fingers to my lips. “Hopeful until the end. Fitting.”  
Ryland chuckles although there’s no true humor in it. While he may not be afraid of death, he does sound tired all the same. A part of me aches at that, his exhaustion mirrors my own, and I shiver.  
Ryland has often said we are in the same condition. He is right except for the fact that tomorrow will end his suffering while I have to press on. Perhaps that is something to envy.  
The cell is quiet and I am unsure with what to fill it with. I hate the quiet because it is often when my mind is free to wander. It is often when I truly dwell on my situation as a prisoner-  
And Gods above that never ends well.  
Luckily, the quiet doesn’t last. Ryland speaks up after a pause.  
“Why do you stand it? You could fight Magnus, you could escape, you could at least have hope. Why do you refuse to allow yourself the belief that you will one day be free?” He meets my eyes and searches for something.  
I don’t know what it is but he doesn’t find it. Instead, I clench my jaw and hold up my ring for him to see.  
“This. This keeps me here and warns me that I will die if I don’t obey. I’m not like you, Ryland, I’m not ready to die. Death is much more terrifying than Magnus’ wrath.”  
My answer prompts no speeches about hope and dreams. Instead, Ryland’s hands still on his doodle and he clenches his fist.  
“When we first met, I asked you for your name. Will you tell me that now?” He meets my eyes.  
I twirl at the ring again. “I don’t have one.”  
“Everyone has one. What do the soldiers call you? And Magnus?”  
“The soldiers call me Lady Vestergaard and Magnus just addresses me. My name was taken from me a long time ago. To have a name is to have personality and to have personality is to have free will. There is too much room for error in giving me something to classify me as anything other than his wife. Helena wiped my name from my mind a long time ago. I am nothing but ‘Lady Vestergaard’.”  
Ryland shakes his head and presses his hands to his head.  
“That’s ridiculous, everyone deserves a name. You are more than his property, my ivory princess.” He reaches past the bars for my hand. Like yesterday, I give it to him. “What do you want it to be? I will call you whatever you want.”  
I snort, shake my head, and bite my cheek. “I don’t need a name.”  
Ryland persists. He rubs at the ring on my finger almost as if it would remove the crest.  
“Everyone needs one.”  
“Then you choose,” I murmur.  
Ryland thinks for a long time before stroking a pattern across my knuckles. “How about ‘Hope’? A reminder for you to never lose it.”  
‘Hope’. I repeat it a few times to myself almost as if to engrave it into memory. It begins to settle around me pleasantly-  
But I force it out.  
“It doesn’t matter what you call me. You will be the only person that does so anyway. When you die tomorrow, my name goes with you.” I free my hand from his grasp.  
Ryland lets me move away but he shakes his head. “I am not the end, Hope. I am the beginning. When I die, you will not be alone. Don’t lose hope, my ivory princess.”  
Silence rings again. I mull his words over and over in my mind and try to ignore the fact that having a name makes me feel warm inside.  
“I will never be free,” I protest, “I’ve given up hope.”  
Ryland reaches out and writes something out on the dirt with the fork.  
“My Resistance is only the beginning. The Generals have stopped nothing, my dear. I have plans in motion for my death. There are more leaders out there willing to free this world. The Resistance will not end with me despite what the Witch Queen thinks. That I promise you.”  
He finishes writing his phrase. I glance at it.  
‘D-O N-O-T L-O-S-E H-O-P-E.”  
I gnaw on my bottom lip and open my mouth to say something when the sounds of the guards changing posts registers.  
Our time is up.  
My heart pounds in my chest when I realize that the next time I will see him is when he swings from side to side in the gallows. Ryland must come to this realization too because he presses the untouched cake back into my hands as well as the handkerchief I had given him yesterday.  
“Remember me, Hope, and remember what I said. You will be free. That I swear.” He reaches past the bars and strokes the crest ring. “Fight, my ivory princess. Fight and free yourself from your ivory tower. Slay the dragon yourself. Small rebellions can lead to great change.”  
His words sound so final, so parting, it gets hard for me to swallow. I blink away the burning in my eyes and nod.  
“A dreamer till the end, aren’t you?”  
I mean it as a jest but my words bring another wave of heartache. They sound like something that belongs on a tombstone.  
Ryland reaches for my face and wipes at a tear. “Aren’t we all dreamers? Don’t cry for me, Hope. Just live and fight for me. I’ll see you on the other side.”  
I open my mouth to say something, close it, then shake. Backing away, I raise my chin.  
“Goodbye, Ryland.”

The execution date arrives in a shower of breezing servants and running soldiers. Ryland’s death is greater than the Witch Queen’s birthday. The palace is abuzz with activity.  
I eye the two dresses on the bed and bite my lip. The light blue one is Magnus’ favorite because it matches the colors of our Queen, but the dark green one is more fitting for such a somber occasion. I have trouble deciding which to choose.  
Magnus finishes adjusting his formal military uniform and puts a possessive arm around my frame. He nods at the blue dress and fixes my hairpin.  
“Wear the blue one. The Queen likes her people to wear her colors. You will greet her and the other Generals this morning.”  
I nod, mumble out an affirmative, and lift the blue dress up. Magnus puts his hand on my back for a few seconds then spins around. His uniform clinks as he walks.  
“I’ll see you downstairs to greet the Generals. Hurry.” He disappears out the door.  
I watch him go then toss the blue dress back in the closet. I opt for the dark green one and slip it on in a hurry.  
Ryland said that small acts of defiance sometimes result in change. I’m willing to test that theory.  
I stare at myself in the mirror and bite my lip.  
Hope is dead, I mourn its loss every day, but maybe it will come back.  
Ryland’s death today will mark the end of his Resistance, but it will not be the end of the revolution. Maybe it will just be the beginning. Maybe whatever leader Ryland appointed to lead in his stead will finally be the one to free us all.  
I raise my chin at my reflection and claw at the ring on my finger.  
Magnus, when he took me from my family, once bid me to obey and become his puppet bride-  
But I won’t bend so easily. I may not have my hope back, not yet, but defiance is so much harder to kill.  
Thus, I spin around and march down to greet the Generals. Ryland may hang today, but he is only the beginning. I will accept his challenge.  
I will resist and I will reclaim my hope.  
After all, my very name stands for it.


	2. “Trust me.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 15.5 “Trust me.”

Warnings for graphic violence and death. Name used is Hope.  
This has not been proofread. I apologize.  
——  
When Magnus sees me in the green dress I have chosen, there’s a flicker of shock and displeasure on his face for half a millisecond before its gone. The impassive and aloof mask falls across his face once more and he sends me a piercing glare promising an extensive questioning later. I ignore this and plaster the ever-so-perfect-and-sweet wife persona on my face as the greetings go underway.  
Greeting the Generals is never hard. To them, I am just the bejeweled little plaything that Magnus drapes across his arm like a trophy. I have no mind of my own nor anything intelligent to say. Their gaze sweeps right over me in disregard when I mumble a timid “Blessed be the Queen” as a greeting.  
The meeting passes by relatively quickly. The air is electrified with anticipation and excitement. Today, with Ryland and his crew dying, the resistance is quelled once and for all.  
Everyone is so eager to go to the wooded clearing and watch the last hope this world has swing on a rope that the greetings are over within moments.  
Even when the Witch Queen appears, an incarnation of frost and evil, she breezes right past me without the usual snide look or disgusted quirk of her lip. Like her Generals, she is excited to get this over with. Magnus and the others might parade her around like a goddess in the flesh, but she was as scared about the resistance as anyone else.  
I take a deep breath as we file in rank to the courtyard. No one says a word, silence drags heavy across the crowd, and the atmosphere is incredibly tense.  
The wooded clearing Magnus has selected has been prepared for this occasion. There are rows of chairs at the very front for the Generals and a large white throne carved out of crystal and made to look like ice, the Queen’s. I don’t spot a seat for me at the front and give Magnus and inquisitive look.  
He appraises me coldly out of the corner of his eye and nods to another row of seats further away. This row is for the nobility of high enough importance to be present for the execution but not important enough to sit by the Generals.  
I breathe a sigh of relief. Although this has been done on purpose, Magnus has purposefully slighted me this way before the Generals to prove that I am nothing except his property, I am relieved all the same to be far away from him. Today’s execution will be bad enough without Magnus or anyone else seeing just how much it will affect me.  
I take my seat on a chair and press my hands against my lap. My nails dig into the fabric of the dark green dress I have worn. In the eternal night we are in, the sun blotted out by the Queen, it looks black. The universal color of mourning.  
I bite my lip.  
The prisoners and Ryland are not out yet. There is a large stage set up for this purpose and a large wooden structure to serve as the gallows, but there are only guards milling about tightening the rope.  
I grind my teeth together and feel the beginnings of a headache begin to pound.  
I should have feigned feeling ill, should have told Magnus I needed to stay in the palace and recover. Being here for such a terrible event sets me on edge. I don’t want to see the last chance I have of freedom die.  
I don’t want to see Ryland die.  
I press my fingers to my face and debate on whether or not to run up and tell Magnus I am feeling under the weather, even though it’ll probably earn me a savage beating later, when the event finally begins.  
The Queen rises to her feet gracefully and walks to the front of the crowd. Her face is arrogant, frigid like the dark morning, and she stalks with the purpose of a predator.  
I’ve met her before, spoken to her on occasion even, yet she still terrifies me. She reminds me of the dwarven mountains. Tall, imposing, and hostile.  
Just as she reaches the front of the crowd, the clinking of chains reaches my ears. I suppress my gasp as I see the prisoners arrive.  
There’s 9 of them now, four have died since their capture, and Ryland is at the back of the procession. The men’s faces are cold, unexpressive, but still heavily resigned. They’ve accepted their fate long ago yet still fear it all the same.  
The Queen watches each of them arrive and waits until they’ve stepped on the stage. Then, she clasps her hands before her, and tilts her chin arrogantly. When she speaks, she addresses the resistance.  
“Gentlemen, how lovely it is to see you.”  
Her voice echoes against the clearing and carries through. It is commanding, mocking, and powerful. I feel a shiver run down my spine at the cold and humorless way she delivers her joke.  
A chuckle and a snort follow her words from the Generals but everyone else, the nobility, soldiers, and I, bite our tongues. The Queen inspires fear in her wake and today she is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen.  
The prisoners do not react to her taunt. Every single man in the file keeps their eyes staring forward and their jaw clenched. Ryland, at the very end of the line, raises his chin defiantly and is the perfect epitome of composure.  
In that moment, I am in awe of him.  
Standing before the Witch Queen, moments away from being strung up with the rest of his men, he remains resilient. The Legends we’ve heard of him, the stories that say that he is a hero that fights with a passion that no one has ever seen before, speaks like an impassioned preacher, and walks with the power and grace of a king, are true in that moment. He reminds me of Theramis, the demonic hero my mother would read me stories of. Like him, he is a myth in the flesh.  
If the Witch Queen is frigid frost’s incarnation, he is burning fire come to life.  
The Witch Queen raises her chin in arrogance and offers a smile colder than a tundra. She inches towards the stage and raises her hand to Ryland’s face. Her fingers brush his chin and raise it further.  
“Do you have nothing to say, Captain Goldhart? The stories about you praise your legendary oration skills. Come, deliver a speech about fighting and victory,” she hums.  
Ryland does not take the bait. He remains unfazed and impassive.  
The Witch Queen clicks her tongue and retreats. When she speaks next, she is addressing us. Her face is schooled into something powerful and confident.  
“These men before you have committed the highest treason. They have slayed your fighters, taken your lands, and betrayed your Queen. Would anyone like to plead on their behalf?”  
It is a mocking question. No one is suicidal enough to defend those that the Witch Queen has already sentenced.  
I bite the inside of my cheek and risk another glance at Ryland. He stares impassively at the crowd that has already deemed him guilty and does not give away his emotions.  
I take the time to analyze his face carefully. I memorize every feature of it that I can and ache to draw him. Once upon a time, drawing had been my hobby, now I simply sketch in my mind.  
Feeling his gaze on me, he moves his eyes slightly in my direction. When he sees me wearing dark green and not teal, there is almost a flicker of something in his gaze. Approval and gratefulness shine in his eyes for a millisecond before his emotionless mask shrouds him once more. He looks away and continues staring forward almost as if the moment between us had never existed.  
I release a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding and dig my nails further into the fabric of my dress. Turning my attention back to the Queen, I try to calm myself down.  
We can not look at each other, we can not recognize one another. There is no reason for the lady of the palace and the leader of the resistance to know each other.  
The Queen nods at a guard and the guard tugs on the execution rope a few times to make sure it is sturdy. When this is done, the Queen raises her chin and the first prisoner is walked to the gallows.  
She repeats the man’s name, spits it out like it tastes bitter, and crosses her arms before her.  
“You have been sentenced to death for your treason by a council of your peers, however, I am a merciful Queen. Renounce the Resistance and pledge your loyalty to me. You shall live and be forgiven. Will you accept my offer?” She has the audacity to make her voice sound soft, tilt her head to one side like a sweet child, and extend her hand.  
The prisoner all but spits at her, “Death to the Witch Queen.”  
I almost smile but catch myself in time. A murmur of disgust and fear ripples through the crowd and I see General Richter‘s hand move for his weapon. The Witch Queen spots him and a piercing glare moments later makes him sit down again. She looks unfazed at the insult and sighs loudly.  
“A shame, you were offered a chance.” She nods at the executioner and the stool is kicked off.  
There is a terrible moment where the prisoner struggles in his rope. He makes sounds at the back of his throat and resists weakly before he finally dies.  
I feel like throwing up and the crowd around me tenses. However, the remaining prisoners and Ryland remain a pillar of strength. If the execution has frightened them, they don’t show it.  
The corpse is removed from the rope and the next man is brought forward. The Witch Queen gives him a second chance, he spits out an insult at her, and he is hung. The line then continues.  
This cycle repeats over and over again. No rebel takes her offer, one even calls her a “frigid bitch from the pits of hell”, and all are hung.  
All the while, Ryland remains strong and unflinching. His gaze remains staring forward, his hands remain clenched at his sides, and his face remains aloof. If the death of his men affect him, and I am sure they do, he does not show it.  
Finally, the part I was dreading arrives.  
The air suddenly becomes much more tense and electrifying. The Generals sit up straighter and the Queen’s mouth twists into a terrible smirk that will haunt my nightmares from now on.  
The line of prisoners is reduced to one person. Ryland. He alone is left as the mountain of corpses grows higher.  
It is his turn.  
He is walked to the gallows and the rope is tied around his neck. I see the fibers cutting his throat from my place at the back. I ache for him in that moment and my fingers begin to shake.  
This is the moment everyone except me has been waiting for. The excitement in the clearing is suddenly palpable. I feel like gagging but manage to reel in my emotions.  
The Queen places her fingers on her lips, tilts her head to the side, and hums a tune underneath her breath.  
“Alas, the Resistance has ended. Come, Captain Goldhart, have you any words to mark this occasion? The Legends about you say that your speeches rival Lennox’s words. Go on, say something.”  
Silence.  
Ryland, ever stoic, refuses to take her bait. He stands straight as a rod and clasps his hands behind his back. The noose tied around his neck leaves red imprints on his skin and digs painfully into his flesh, yet he pays it no mind. He is like the marble statue of a god in that moment. Tall, regal, and unafraid.  
After all, what is a Queen to a god?  
The Queen makes a sound at the back of her throat, inches closer and presses her fingers to his jaw. “A pity, I looked forward to hearing your words. Your stories alone have turned thousands against me. I wanted to see if you were worth an ounce of that respect.”  
She moves away with a look of disgust and gives him her back. Despite this, she isn’t done tormenting him. She raises her chin in arrogance and crosses her arms before her. When she speaks next, she addresses the crowd but her words are sharpened blades against Ryland.  
“Thus, the Resistance ends, yes? The last pathetic attempt at spreading dissent against a United world is shattered. All those that have fought in its name shall scatter like the wind. It’s own leader shall be buried in a mass grave along with the pitiful men he sentenced to death. Captain Goldhart advocated for domestic terrorism and treason, yet he didn’t even flinch when his men died for his lies. Now what does that make him?” She presses her hand to her chest in false pity. “A true leader feels for their people. A true leader fights to the bitter end to help their fighters. And a true leader does not die in the gallows because he surrendered when life became difficult. You, Captain Goldhart, are no leader. There are Legends about you, myths that surround you and promote you as the next Theramis, yet you are nothing more than a coward. A coward you were under the false lord, and a coward you will die today before your true Queen. Come, my dear, look upon the bodies of those who served you. Memorize their faces and the markings against their necks. Carry those images with you to the afterlife. May their ghosts haunt you and torment you once you follow them.”  
She walks away from Ryland, and nods her chin at the guard. The guard on the stage rises to his feet and stalks to Ryland.  
My breath hitches in my throat and I dig my nails into my palms until I feel blood. This is it. This is how hope dies. It is strangled before a crowd of vultures.  
I keep my face impassive as the rope is tightened ever more on Ryland’s neck. Ryland raises his chin defiantly and glares at the sunless sky.  
For a man about to die, he looks brave.  
As the guard readies to drop the lever beneath the stage and have Ryland swing, Ryland opens his mouth.  
“You asked me to speak, your Majesty? Fine.”  
His words echo against the square and the Queen freezes as she readies herself to sit upon her throne. Her eyebrow raises up, hands freeze on her armrests, and she crosses one leg over the other. With a look of amusement, she rolls her fingers in a ‘go on’ motion and a twisted smirk paints her features.  
Ryland clenches his jaw and raises his gaze. His eyes burn like vivid flames and he takes each of us in. His gaze sees me, lingers on me for half a second longer than the rest, before he moves on. It takes him a second to find his words, but when he does, his voice comes out strong and commanding.  
“You speak of what a ruler is, yet you know nothing aside from a tantrum. The old king rejected you because you were inadequate so you turned against him. The old lords rejected your rule so you slaughtered them. The old world fought you so you destroyed it. Your throne is made of ice because water has rejected you and fire deems you unworthy. Your crown is false and your powers are pitiful. You might have magic at your disposal, but spells are nothing compared to loyalty. Your Generals follow you because they are twisted in their own right, but give them an opportunity and they would flee too. You are nothing but a pretender to a throne. A child throwing a tantrum because she cannot have what she wants. You speak of leadership, yet you are a coward who hides behind magic rather than face the world head on. Ice, my Queen, melts in the sun. Is that why you hid it from view? Did you hide the sun so that it may never melt your frozen Kingdom? Or perhaps did you hide it because the light shows you how weak you are? Even now, so sure you will win, you hide behind pitiful attempts to discredit the Resistance rather than fight me head on. I stand here before the corpses of my men because I let you take me. Had I not surrendered, you would still be after me. You won because I let you, but you will lose out of your own merits without any assistance. You are nothing but a cowardly, scorned woman who had her heart broken and sought to break the world rather than tough it out. A spoiled child you were before, and a rotten pretender you are now. The world does not tremble before you, my Queen, it merely waits for your destruction. My men have died today, not because you won, but because they gave their lives to defeat you. If you believe you have won today, you are as foolish as Lord Reiner portrayed you.”  
His words echo against the clearing and Ryland squares his jaw. The Queen’s mouth is open into something that resembles shock. Had her skin not been white before, it would have drained of color. Whatever she had expected him to say, it had not been this.  
But Ryland isn’t done.  
He moves just slightly, as far as his noose will allow, and addresses the crowd.  
“You in this audience are here not to see me dead but merely to keep yourselves from suffering my fate. You came because you were summoned by the Witch Queen, not because you believed in her blasphemy. Her words are poison, and you only listen because poison kills you slower than a noose. You do not follow her, you fear her. Fear is a powerful, powerful thing, but it is not what makes Empires. Empires are forged from bravery and hope. Fear has no place asides from the destruction of tyranny. Thus, I ask each of you to assess yourselves. You have a chance to see things right. You may sit there wrapped in finery and jewels and watch what is left of hope die, or you may rise up and take your story back. When my Lord died years ago, he bid me to fight until the day this Kingdom was freed. Now, I bid you the same. I beg you to choose between being puppets to a false Queen whose regime will melt when the sun casts its rays over her, or becoming the heroes your children will be proud to to hear about in fables. The Resistance does not die with me, nor does it die with my men. The Resistance is alive and it breathes and it fights. My death, whenever it shall arrive, will only be a small price to pay.”  
Ryland turns to the With Queen again and his mouth twists into a smirk. He raises his shackled arms before him like he is praying.  
“You told me to speak, your highness? Well, I have said my piece. Now, I call upon your people to think about their loyalties and ask themselves how much they are willing to sacrifice in exchange for a better world. The Resistance does not die with me, my Queen. The Resistance cannot be killed by a simple noose. My men wished for your death, and as a leader I will see it through. You speak of leaders and values, yet you forget one key piece. A true leader wins the loyalty of their Kingdom through honor and fight, it does not steal it through threats and conquest. Fear is a powerful thing, my Queen, you have chosen to rule through it. But, beware. Fear is a powerful tool, but it is also what sentences tyrants to their death. If you wish to rule through an emotion, rule by hope. Hope is what forges heroes and defeats villains. But, more than that, hope is what will see your regime end. You will die by the sword you raised against this world. And I will be the one to swing the blade.”  
Ryland stops then, lets his words sink into the stunned Queen and Generals, before jumping. At first I think he is jumping to his death to keep the Queen from getting the satisfaction of hanging him-  
But then I see the guard’s blade. The guard that had previously been poised to hang him swings his sword and cuts the noose. The chord falls away from Ryland’s neck and he dives for the crowd.  
A flurry of motion happens all at once. The Generals rise with their weapons and scream orders to apprehend Ryland, but Ryland sidesteps them. He weaves past their lines and dives blindly for the clearing. Arrows wheeze past him and spells almost singe him, yet he presses on.  
He makes it to the edge of the clearing before the ground begins to rumble.  
I stand from my seat, shake as I see the world rumble and roar, and then freeze. Tens and tens of troops emerge from the trees and rush at the Witch Queen’s army. They wear colors of different armies, brandish different weapons, and fight alongside different races.  
They are the Resistance. 

It is utter chaos as the clearing turns into a battlefield. The Resistance is outnumbered drastically, yet they fight with everything they have. The Generals stick to the Queen and the With Queen’s spells are flung in every direction with no calculation or precision. Either Ryland’s words have affected her, or the shock of the surprise attack has ruined her fighting abilities. Either way, this battle will not be so easily won.  
I slip away from the crowd and run for an edge of the clearing. This distraction, this battle, is the perfect opportunity. Escape is never within reach, but this fight puts it close.  
Magnus can easily track me down, the ring on his finger can detect mine, but with his focus on the fight, I may be able to get ahead of him.  
I dive for the clearing and manage to make it several hundred yards before someone’s arms wrap around me.  
At first I think I’ve been apprehended, nearly scream with the pain of freedom so quickly killed, before I smell the familiar scent of pine and sweat.  
“Ryland,” I breathe out the name under my breath and my heart hammers against my chest. I whirl around and all but force him into my embrace.  
Ryland wraps his arms around me and tugs me with him as he runs. His grip is strong and protective.  
“You made it out,” he pants, “I was worried you would get lost in the chaos. I ordered my men to help you out but it seems you ran before they could get to you. Are you hurt?”  
He throws me a concerned glance as he runs.  
I blink up at him, shake as I run, and process his words. When they register in my mind, I let out a breath of air.  
“How?”  
The question is all I can get out. Between running from the Witch Queen and my own thoughts, my brain can hardly make words.  
Ryland pulls me closer to him and guides me down another narrow path of trees. The woods provide cover for us as we run.  
“You insult me, my ivory princess. Did you truly believe I would let the Witch Queen win? I devoted my life to seeing her fall, I would not die when her own death looms so close.”  
“But how?! All of the Generals were present, you were outnumbered. Your men-“  
At the mention of his men, Ryland winces. It’s a brief reaction but there all the same. I wonder for the first time if perhaps reinforcements were late. Perhaps he was not meant to escape alone.  
Ryland holds my hand tightly as we run and turns his head just slightly so that our eyes meet.  
In his gaze, I see fire. It burns bright and scorches me from head to toe. I was right earlier in my observation. The Witch Queen is winter come alive, but Ryland is fire in the flesh.  
“The Witch Queen should be more careful with who she hires. Her ever-loyal soldiers are tired of her regime. You would be surprised to see just how many of her guards wear my colors in secret.”  
With that final word, Ryland tugs me forward again and we pick up the pace.

Perhaps I should have paid more attention to the threat resting on my finger. Perhaps, had I realized just how powerful that little band is, I would have realized my mistake sooner.  
We are a couple of hours away from the palace when Magnus’ lands end. His woods come to a close and Ryland hurries me past the land division of trees and shrubs. He flies past it with no difficulty-  
But I ram into it.  
An invisible wall keeps me from advancing further and the ring on my finger burns hot against my flesh. I let out a loose cry as the ring scorches the skin and tightens. I skid back into Magnus’ territory and dig my nails under the ring in vain if only to serve as a shield for my skin from the burning metal.  
Ryland spins back around, sees the way the ring lights up, and hisses a curse under his breath. He comes back into the land division and takes my hand in his. His callused fingers turn my hand every which way as he analyzes the ring.  
“General Klein made a failsafe. She enchanted it so that you would not be able to run past the palace grounds,” he murmurs.  
I grind my teeth in pain as he prods at the burned skin. The ring has cooled now, sensing that I am no longer pressed against the barrier, yet my injury has not healed on its own. Another failsafe from Helena, perhaps? A way for Magnus to know if I had tried to escape.  
I shudder and feel the familiar feeling of despair and helplessness. It settles around me like a shackle and I nearly bend underneath it. Breathing becomes difficult but I manage somehow.  
I was an idiot for thinking I could escape. Ryland had filled me with speeches of hope and liberty, but Magnus had brought me back to reality.  
I shuffle away from Ryland and press my hand tightly closed in a way to curve the pain. “You have to run. Your Resistance was outnumbered, the battle will end soon. If you have a hideout, go before the Witch Queen realizes you are gone. I will distract Magnus for however long I am capable.”  
Which will not be a very long time once he sees the burning mark against my skin. He will know what I tried to do and his wrath will terrify the gods.  
Ryland clenches his jaw firmly and stands his ground. Flames of determination ignite in his gaze and he gives a slight shake of his head.  
“No. I told you I’d see you free. This isn’t the end. You have magic, surely, you told me you could make fire in your palm. Can you take away Klein’s enchantment?”  
I bite back a laugh and shake my head. My fingers curl around the ring and I let my magic ignite. It sparks for a second, gives a weak light, and then dies away. The ring pulses and tightens even more until I clench my teeth to keep from screaming. When it senses that it’s warning has served its purpose, the ring loosens a fraction and settles back against my skin like a chain.  
I stretch out my hand and let the light reflect from the surface of it. “Another failsafe. When the Witch Queen conquered, she killed all those with magic. She wanted to be a magic practitioner alone and was only willing to share that pride with Klein. All those with strong magic were slaughtered in her wake, and those of us with weak magic were ‘disabled’. Helena enchanted my ring so that I could never use my own magic for longer than a second. I’ve tried to disenchant it, tried it until it’s almost hacked off my finger, but it never works.”  
Ryland takes my hand again and turns it so that he can see the ring better.  
“Try again,” his voice is almost shaking.  
Like me, he knows there is no hope. For a man that prides himself in never giving up, even he knows when something is impossible.  
“The ring alerts Magnus to whatever happens. When my ring hurts me, his pulses and lets him know something is amiss. It probably jumped on his hand when I crashed into the barrier, and it will beat like crazy if I try to remove it. He may be distracted in the battle now, but he will realize what is happening when his hand begins to vibrate. His ring can kill me, make it so that I turn to ash, and I have no desire to do that just yet. So, no, there is no point in trying. I am stuck here, but you can go. There is still time.”  
I give him a light shove which is akin to pushing on a wall. He doesn’t budge an inch. Rather, his jaw tightens further and he shakes his head.  
“Not without you. There has to be some other way.”  
I make a sound at the back of my throat and clench my hand. “I have tried everything, Ryland. Nothing has ever worked. Go. Now.”  
I turn away from him to put a barrier between us. Thoughts of returning back to Magnus make me sick, especially with the telltale burn against my finger which signifies my attempted escape, but I have to. There is no hope for my escape.  
I ready myself to walk away, try to bring myself to take that dreaded first step, but Ryland beats me again. He comes up so that he is beside me and takes my hand in his.  
The determination is back in his eyes, but it is accompanied by something more.  
Worry.  
Whatever plan he has, he is worried it will not come out well.  
“You never tried one thing, Hope. It may be your only chance at escaping.” His hands are shaking. I read his plan in his eyes before he has a chance to voice it.  
I take a sharp deep breath and reflexively clench my hand into a fist to protect the ring.  
“It’ll kill me. Helena would have planned for it too. It won’t work,” I take a step back.  
He takes a step forward. His hand goes for his coat pocket where a dagger rests-something he stole from a soldier by the looks of the hilt. He holds it in the center of his palm as if to show me that he will not act if my consent is not given.  
“There is no other option, my ivory princess. You said it yourself, you have tried everything else. What will happen when Magnus sees your finger? What will he do to you when he realizes you tried to run?”  
He takes a step forward. I clasp my other hand over the ring protectively and clench my jaw.  
“He will kill me. He’s hurt me for a lot less.” I wince at the memories of cells and bruises.  
Ryland nods and presses closer.  
“This could be your only chance. I asked everyone over there what they were willing to give. What are you willing to give, my Princess?”  
He takes my hand in his and gently pries off my fingers. I tremble, feel the fear as it hammers against my rib cage, and look away.  
This is suicide. This is madness.  
This is hope.  
I take a deep breath and flinch when he extends my hand.  
“ **Trust me.** ”  
His plea is barely a whisper yet it washes over me all the same. It crashes against me like a tsunami and chases away the fear. The Legends speak of a powerful orator who could convince anyone to take his side. They are not wrong.  
Shaking although I am, I raise my head. My eyes meet his, that fire of hope and promise still burning like a wildfire, and nod.  
“Do it,” I hiss.  
Ryland gives me a look, nods his head grimly, and swings the dagger down. 

And just like that, I am free. 

When we step past the barrier then, half dazed from pain and blood, there is no invisible wall blocking me from leaving.  
I lean against Ryland, let out a breathless laugh, and turn to him.  
“Where?”  
A single word but one I never thought I’d say.  
Trapped in that palace, there was never a ‘where’ besides Magnus.  
Ryland supports my weight, gives me a half smile that almost illuminates the dark morning, and nods forward.  
“The Resistance. We aren’t done yet.”  
With that answer, he guides me forward and away from my ivory prison.


	3. “Hold me and never let me go.” / “Don’t be afraid.” / “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 15.75  
> “Hold me and never let me go.” / “Don’t be afraid.” / “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

With no sun, it is difficult to tell how long we travel. The woods past Magnus’ lands are vast and there’s no true indication as to where they end. Ryland has us on a schedule of pausing every so often to rest before pressing on.  
Eventually, after an unknown amount of time has passed, we end up in a wooded area full of trees and undergrowth. It looks no different from the miles we have already trekked through, yet Ryland raises his hand and indicates me to stop. I do so, narrowly avoiding a collision with his back, and watch as he paces across a cluster of trees.  
He tilts his head to the side, traces his fingers across the branches, and digs the toe of his boot across the soil. I watch his display utterly puzzled and say nothing.  
Finally, satisfied with whatever inspection he has conducted, Ryland straightens his back and offers me a radiant smile. His hand taps against an area between two trees and a low sound emits. My breath hitches in my throat.  
It’s a magical barrier.  
“Magic,” I breathe out. My own hand comes to rest next to his, our fingertips slightly brushing. I can feel a tension against my palms and magic hums underneath my skin. The barrier is solidly built and easy to miss. Were I not with Ryland, I would have breezed right past and ended up on the other side of the barrier without having have ever known how to get in.  
Ryland traces a pattern across the barrier and sigils come to life in bright golds and whites. I hear a click as the magic border begins to peel back. There’s almost the sound of peeling bark and falling metal as the enchantment holding the block together falls away.  
In moments, the air before us warps and bends and the last of the magic gives out. Where there was once trees and shrubs, an entire mini-village stares back at me. I can see people moving about in the distance and smoke curling out of firewood.  
Ryland takes my hand and leads me past the last of the barrier. Once we are through, I hear it snap back into place behind us. Were anyone following us, they’d be locked out.  
I survey the area around me, take in the guards and watch towers in the distance, and glance at Ryland. He nods in an answer to my silent question and tugs me gently forward.  
“Yes, this is it. Welcome to the Resistance, Hope.”

When Magnus first let it slip that a Resistance was camping out in the woods and scheming against the Witch Queen, I had imagined a series of loosely built tents and rogue warriors grunting at each other. This, however, is not the case.  
The Resistance is more village than camp out. There are young children flittering past and large, homely tents in the distance. I take in everything around me in wonder.  
Sensing my amazement, Ryland lets out a chuckle. “Not what you expected? Yeah, we’re not all battle hungry warriors. The Resistance has many outposts through the realms that look just like this. This one is a fallaway shelter we built not long ago in an emergency.”  
“Fallaway?” I ask.  
“A shelter that can fall away at any moment, one ready to evacuate in a minute, if you will. This one is nothing compared to the permanent settlements,” he answers back.  
I let that piece of information sink in. The fact that this village full of life and joy is nothing but something scrapped together at the last minute is mind boggling.  
I open my mouth to ask a million more questions-but the sound of shouting interrupts me. We turn to see a man dressed in armor and coming at us.  
I press behind Ryland in fear but he seems unconcerned. He puts a protective arm around me and nods at the man approaching. I watch as he smiles and raises his hand in greeting.  
“Caligo! It’s nice to see you again.”  
The man, Caligo, picks up his pace and hurries towards Ryland. He stops in front of him and claps his hands on Ryland’s shoulder in greeting. A smile works his way across his handsome features.  
“Captain Goldhart! I knew the Witch Queen was no match for you,” he tilts his head down in greeting.  
Ryland releases me and steps forward. He claps Caligo’s shoulder.  
“I told you, you would see me again. I keep my promises.”  
Caligo opens his mouth to speak when he spots me. He takes me in slowly and a flirtatious grin spreads across his face.  
“Well hello, beautiful, who might you be?”  
I flush in embarrassment and struggle to think of a response. To use the name Hope is still a little too new. Ryland, thus far, is the only one who uses it and it feels awkward to use it for an introduction. I bite my tongue and try to come up with a reply.  
Finally, Ryland comes to my rescue. He retakes my side and places a gentle hand on the small of my back. His touch is comforting and I release some of the tension in my shoulders.  
“This is the girl Magnus kidnapped. I managed to rescue her in my time at the caste,” Ryland explains.  
I wait for Caligo to react with shock or disgust at who I am-a Renegade with connections to the Generals-but he just nods in understanding. The flirtatious smile falls from his face and is replaced by a kinder and gentler one. He turns back to me, his one eye softer, and extends his hand.  
“Welcome, Miss. I’ve heard a lot about you and I want you to know that you are safe here,” he greets.  
“Thank you,” I manage out. I take his hand in mine and shake it awkwardly.  
If Caligo finds my stiff handshake odd, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gently pats my hand in comfort before turning his attention back to Ryland.  
“The Resistance has awaited your return eagerly. There is much to learn from your mission. Are you alone?”  
I feel Ryland tense behind me, something akin to sorrow and grief on his face for a millisecond, before he breathes out a quiet sigh only I can hear.  
I remember his men and the carnage we had left behind. My own heart aches.  
“I am alone,” Ryland answers. His hand on my back suddenly shakes before he steadies it again.  
Caligo’s lips thin, catching on to Ryland’s answer, but he nods in understanding. He straightens his back, like a soldier reverting back to his calm facade, and spins on his heel.  
“I see. We will have to brief the Council on the mission then. I am glad you are safe, Captain Goldhart.”  
Caligo takes off and beckons for Ryland to follow. I catch his arm before he can.  
“Where are we going?” I wonder.  
Ryland offers me a gentle smile and softly nudges me forward. “The Main Tent. I’ll brief the leadership there and see if we can arrange something for you.”  
As he says it, I begin to feel the exhaustion of the journey settling in. A life as Lady Vestergaard had not exactly prepared me for a long trek. My throat suddenly feels like it is on fire and my legs ache.  
“Alright,” I nod.  
Without anymore resistance, I follow Ryland and Caligo out. 

 

People part ways when we walk through the Resistance’s encampment. They greet Ryland with friendly smiles and worship him.  
It surprises me. No one asides from the Generals could speak or greet the Witch Queen, and Magnus was particular about rank structure and approaching him, so to see the average cook or soldier greet Ryland like an old friend is a pleasant surprise.  
Ryland, with his ever famous people skills, greets every member in turn by name and sticks around to speak with them for a few moments. This makes our walk to the Main Tent much longer than it has to be.  
When we finally arrive to what Ryland tells me is the Main Tent, I let out a sigh of relief. I am tired from the long journey and want some time to reflect on everything that has happened since the failed execution.  
“Is this it?” I press my hand to my side where an ache is beginning from the long walk.  
The Main Tent looks like any other tent from the outside, but there’s an energy about it which radiates importance and authority. I can hear the murmurs of people inside and see a weak lamplight drifting past it’s flaps. A meeting of some sort is underway.  
Ryland nods in reply. “This is the Main Tent. It’s where the Resistance’s leadership gathers to plot and talk. There is a meeting now?”  
He directs the last bit at Caligo. Caligo crosses his arms behind his back and nods.  
“The Council has been meeting for the past hour discussing your rescue. They await your briefing. I will tell them you are back,” he answers. He offers us a last friendly smile before ducking inside the tent.  
I move to follow, certain that Ryland will too, but Ryland stops me. He looks apologetic as he does so and coughs awkwardly.  
“Meetings are confidential, Hope. Only the Council, Caligo, and I can enter the Main Tent. I will find someone to take you to get some rest. Wait here,” Ryland explains.  
The thought of being alone is not a good one, but I have no choice in the matter. I reel in my emotions and clench my hands against the fabric of my dress. Once I nod my consent, Ryland enters the Main Tent and leaves me outside.  
I wait for maybe a moment or so before someone is exiting the tent. It is a young woman clothed in the Witch Queen’s blues. She spots me and a warm smile spreads across her face in greeting.  
“Lady Hope,” she extends her hand, “Nice to meet you. Ryland asked for me to find you a place to rest. My name is Solaire.”  
“Nice to meet you,” I murmur back feeling more than a little embarrassed. I shake her hand, a better handshake than the one I gave Caligo, and flush.  
Solaire’s expression is utterly warm and friendly as she extends a hand for me to take. “Let’s find you something to eat, yes?”  
I open my mouth to decline, something about navigating the encampment without Ryland feels uncomfortable, but bite my tongue. Hunger gnaws at me and Solaire’s presence feels comforting. I can’t expect to be at Ryland’s side at all times, so I might as well get used to meeting new people.  
“Yes, please,” I whisper.  
Solaire hums, satisfied, and leads me away from the Main Tent. 

Solaire sets down a plate of something warm and spicy before me before hurrying about the makeshift kitchen. I swirl the spoon around and take small sips of the stew. It is much better tasting than the bland food Magnus’ cooks served up and it warms my tired body.  
I manage to finish half of it before setting the spoon down. Years of not eating with Magnus has made my appetite dangerously small. I can’t bring myself to finish the plate.  
Solaire, to her credit, says nothing about my wasting of food. Instead, she takes the plate from me before I can make it to the wash bin.  
“Do you want me to make you some tea? You look a little pale, my lady,” she remarks gently.  
I hang back awkwardly and rub at my arms.  
A tea would be nice but I can’t bring myself to ask for one. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone more than I have to. The Resistance feels too foreign to me.  
“When will the meeting be over?” I change the topic and bite my lip.  
Solaire glances at me before reaching for a tea bag anyway. Perhaps she saw my true feelings.  
“Council meetings usually run late, unfortunately. Ryland and Captain Hawkeye will probably be there all night. Ryland has to debrief on the mission and prepare for the next one. We won’t see them until midnight or so,” she shrugs.  
“Captain Hawkeye?” The name stays with me as she talks. I remember hearing Magnus murmur it once or twice while reading documents from the other Generals.  
“He’s the second captain of the Resistance. Ryland walked in with him to the meeting. Eyepatch fairy that flirts with everything that moves,” she closes one eye and presses a hand to it to demonstrate an eyepatch.  
“Caligo,” I recall, “he’s also a captain then? I thought Ryland is the only leader.”  
“No, there are two. Ryland handles the troops and Caligo the spies. They work together and share responsibilities. The Council meets with them both to discuss strategy,” Solaire swirls the tea leaves around the boiling water.  
The scent of warm jasmine reaches me and I close my eyes. I haven’t had good tea in a long time.  
“Oh,” I reply.  
I take a moment to process through the large amount of data I just learned and sort things out mentally. I need a moment to gather my bearings.  
As Solaire finishes up the tea, I close my eyes and tighten my fists in my lap.  
I do not remember my name but have taken the alias of Hope. I am no longer Lady Vestergaard and have left my ivory tower. I am at the Resistance’s encampment. Ryland leads the Resistance with a man named Caligo Hawkeye. Solaire is one of them and is helping me. I am free.  
I repeat the words in my head until they begin to sink in. Once my thoughts are a little clearer, I open my eyes.  
Solaire watches me, worry on her face, and sets the cup of Jasmine before me.  
“Are you alright, my lady?”  
I wrap my fingers around the cup, the warmth spreading through my hands, and nod slowly.  
“I am fine,” I answer.  
It’s only half a lie. My heart is pounding from the fear of being away from Magnus, my hand is aching as the effect of the magic I had used to calm the pain of severing my finger begins to wash away, and my body aches from stress. Nevertheless, there is a feeling of utterly clarity as I sit there.  
I am free. I no longer have to worry about Magnus or anything else.  
I am free.  
My hand begins to shake and I set the teacup down before it can rattle in my hand. This does not go unnoticed by Solaire. She stands suddenly and glances at the darkened sky.  
There is no sun, the Witch Queen took it long ago, yet we can both tell how late it is if only due to the weariness in our bones. My journey has made me sleepy and I want nothing more than to rest somewhere. My hand, the one wrapped tightly in bandages, aches as the last of the magic I’ve been using to dull the pain washes away. I am too exhausted to keep it from hurting.  
Solaire presses a finger to her chin in thought and narrows her eyes at something in the distance. From the makeshift kitchens, we can see the tents in the distance. People are turning in to sleep while Resistance members pace their patrols.  
“Many of our members have no capacity in their tents, unfortunately. The only people with room to spare are the two captains and me. I can let you sleep in my tent, if you want? Unless you would rather stay with Ryland?” She turns to me.  
I feel awkward and shake my head in response. No. Solaire shrugs and offers me another light smile.  
“My tent it is then.”

Solaire’s tent is a short distance from the Main Tent. Candlelight still spills from the meeting room and hushed voices can be heard. As Solaire said, it seems that the Council has not yet dismissed for the night.  
Solaire draws the flap of her tent open to reveal a small space. There is a bed to one side and a chest to another. The place is snug and can barely fit two people. I linger at the entrance feeling like I am imposing.  
“Are you sure?” I ask again. Solaire has no reason to house me for the night and I feel like an intruder in her tiny space.  
A tsk at the back of her throat is my response. Solaire sets out her bedding and puts her hands at her waist. “I offered, my lady. There is plenty of room for the two of us and I will not be here often if it makes you uncomfortable. The Council has not finished the meeting and I need to be in attendance. Just lay down and rest. You’ve had a difficult journey,” she nods at her bedding.  
I enter tentatively and let her draw me towards the bed. It is more sleeping roll than bed yet I’ve slept in worse. Solaire hands me a blanket and dusts her hands off. She lights a candle as a light source then disappears off to the Main Tent.  
I watch her leave then close my eyes and take a deep breath.  
I am free. I am free. I am free.  
I repeat the mantra in my head as a bedtime story. The words turn in my mind but have no meaning. I have been a prisoner for so long that I no longer know what that word means. 

I drift awake not an hour afterwords. The candle Solaire has lit has barely begun to melt and the tent is still empty. Despite the fact that my body is exhausted from a tiring journey, I find my mind is too restless to sleep.  
I sit up for a while and stare at my hand. Ryland had wrapped it in makeshift bandages and Solaire had replaced them. The wound aches duly as my magic keeps it at bay. It is tiring to have to ward the pain away, but I manage.  
At some point, my restlessness draws me to stand. I leave Solaire’s tent hoping that I can find my way back to it later on, and accepting the fact that I will not be able to, and walk along the tiny dirt road that leads from tent to tent. The tents here look larger than the others, which does not mean they are actually big enough for two as Solaire claims, and they look like they belong to important people. Judging from the distance of the Main Tent, I’d reckon they are the Council members tents.  
I pace the road until the Main Tent comes into view. Light is still pouring from it except the voices have turned to soft murmurs. I hang back as shadows dance across the candlelight.  
Whatever meeting is inside is now drawing to a close. I can hear Caligo’s voice dismissing the meeting and hear the scrape of chairs as council members rise. Soon, the tent draws open and people pour out.  
They are faces I do not recognize. They look exhausted and bitter as they leave. Whatever they had been discussing for the last few hours was not pleasant.  
A knot forms in my stomach. Caligo had said that they wanted a briefing on Ryland’s mission. How many of the council members had lost loved ones to that mission?  
Eventually Solaire, Caligo, and Ryland emerge. The tree look exhausted and Caligo’s earlier smile is gone. His face is pinched in distaste and his fists are clenched. Ryland looks no better. There’s color to his cheeks with displeasure and he looks like he has been arguing with someone.  
I hang back as the three separate. They exchange words with each other, each one displeased, before going their own ways. Caligo turns to one end, Solaire goes the opposite way of her tent, and Ryland heads towards my direction.  
I emerge in his path and he jolts. He blinks tiredly before his mind makes the connection. Immediately, he straightens and hurries towards me.  
“Hope! I thought Solaire said you had gone to sleep?” He puts a hand at my back.  
“I can’t sleep,” I admit and cross my arms, “my mind is too awake.”  
Ryland makes a face like he echoes the sentiment. His expression is drawn and he still has some leftover exasperation. Whatever was discussed in that meeting, he is still reeling from it.  
“Is everything alright?” I ask. Ryland begins to guide us down the path leading to the tents.  
Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose. “Council meetings after missions are never pleasant. I had a lot to account for. I had to debrief on the intel I gathered...and debrief on the executions.”  
The executions of his men. I draw in a breath.  
Ryland was not meant to escape alone. The Resistance had intended to rescue all of them together, yet they had arrived late. As the lone survivor and the leader of the Resistance, there are many that will cast blame on him.  
I wince. “What did they say?”  
“They made me write statements to the families of the men and they’re holding another meeting tomorrow for the public. Caligo will commend the fallen and there will be some speeches. It’s a funeral of sorts. I want no part in it and I made that clear. I have been to too many of them already and I don’t want to see more,” Ryland explains.  
I follow him further into the road leading to the tents. By the looks of his exhaustion, he wants nothing more than to sleep. I almost want to let him rest then but curiosity and worry still burn my stomach.  
“What else?” I wonder.  
Ryland’s tired mind works back to the meeting. There is something else in his gaze, some other part he is hiding from me, but he shuts down before I can try and guess what it is. He shakes his head and gives me a weary look.  
“Council meetings are confidential, Hope,” he reminds me.  
It isn’t a scolding. He isn’t telling me to stop asking him classified intel, he’s begging me to. Whatever else was discussed, he either wants to forget about it or he wants to keep me in the dark about it.  
I have no right to ask him for that information, I realize. I am not a Resistance member and am merely imposing on his hospitality. I swallow down my next line of questioning and let silence reign. The only sound between us is of our breaths and our footsteps.  
Finally we reach Solaire’s tent. Ryland extends a hand to beckon me inside but I stay put. I still am not tired.  
“Not sleepy?” Ryland inquires. He looks like he might pass out at any moment from exhaustion yet he fights it.  
“You should go to bed,” I murmur.  
He shakes his head and suppresses his yawn. “If you feel restless, I can walk around with you for a while. Pacing helps me think.”  
He extends his hand like a gentleman. I loop my arm around it even though I know I should probably let him sleep.  
We walk a different road which leads us to a small patch of forest. Fairy lights are strung on branches casting a lovely portrait around the area. The atmosphere is quiet here and only unbothered by the occasional rustle of a woodland animal scuttling about.  
“A lot of the children come and play here from time to time. It’s safe. I like coming here when everyone is asleep to think,” Ryland states.  
He gently lets go of my hand and takes off his coat. Tossing it to the ground, he motions for me to sit on it. Giving him a quizzical stare, I do. The gesture is almost romantic.  
Ryland sits opposite of me, unbothered by the dirt, and leans against the base of the tree. The fairy lights cast shadows across his face giving him an almost surreal glow. If I were an artist, I could paint a lovely portrait of him then. With his back to the white oak tree, his blue eyes lit up by the lights, and his face casted in handsome shadows. I memorize the image in my head.  
He extends his hand towards me, palm up, and I take it. His palms are rough and calloused from wars and servitude.  
“What is it that keeps you up at night?” His voice is soft, unprying, and I know it is entirely my choice to speak.  
I bite my lip and shake my head. I really don’t know. I am exhausted and sore, yet my mind refuses to rest.  
“I can’t sleep,” I shrug.  
Ryland turns my hand over and examines the way the fairy lights illuminate it. He makes movements with his fingers over my knuckles in an effort to soothe me and never drifts past my wrist. I did not give him permission to touch past my wrist when I gave him my hand and he looks intent to honor that.  
“Nightmares?” He asks. He turns his soft gaze towards mine.  
“No,” I answer. I know nightmares well, they haunt me every night and give me headaches, but that’s not it.  
“Worry?” Ryland suggests. He seems more tired by the minute and I again feel sympathy for not letting him rest.  
“No,” I shake my head.  
He rubs a pattern into my hand. “Then what is it?”  
I take my time staring at the lights burrowed in tree branches and sigh. Sleep evades me and I feel a restless energy in my mind that refuses to leave. A part of me doesn’t know how to rest.  
“I don’t know how,” I answer.  
“How?” Ryland quirks his head waiting for me to elaborate.  
I sigh. “I don’t know what to do. It’s peaceful here and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”  
I think my words make no sense and I grind my teeth together.  
“I guess there’s something wrong with me, right?”  
“ **Nothing is wrong with you,** Hope.” Ryland gently hugs me closer and takes my hand in between both of his. He rubs his palms around it as a way to warm my hand. “I know what you mean.”  
“I don’t know what I mean,” I mumble. My eyes suddenly burn but I refuse to cry. I have bothered Ryland too much already and will not make a nuisance out of myself any further.  
Ryland sighs and gazes up at the permanent night sky. There are no stars tonight, blocked by the Witch Queen’s magic, so it is nothing but an endless patch of black nothingness. Somehow that makes eternal night worse.  
“When The Resistance began, I felt the same way. There was peace for us here in our encampment yet I didn’t know what to do with it. I had been so used to carnage and battles that a peaceful night’s rest was foreign. I spent much of my time tossing and turning and pacing. Caligo almost tied me to a tree just so that I would let him sleep. I just could not comprehend silence. It’s loud, isn’t it? The roar of silence is deafening when you are accustomed to screams.” He closes his eyes, trapped in a bitter memory.  
I stare at my hand linked in his. “Screams?”  
“I did not fight in the first war. I was a servant for Lord Wolfson and stayed in the camps while he and his men fought. At the time, the most terrifying thing was the sound of men dying around me. I did not fight in the first half of the second war. I was a servant who had never picked up a sword before. Combat was unknown and I was weaker then. I hid in Lord Wolfson’s shadow and cowered at the sound of battle. It wasn’t until his death that I was thrust into war. I did not know how to fight yet I fought. I finally understood why milord had been so terrified of war. The death is terrible but the screams are worse. They haunt you and torment you. You grow accustomed to the moans of the injured and the rattles of the dying. The war drew out for so long that it became a lullaby for me. When it was over and I had carved out my Resistance, I could not take the quiet.”  
I let his words sink in, shiver with the thought of so much death, and glare at a tree in order to fight off the tears.  
“The palace was loud at night. Soldiers paced the hallways, the guards outside our door shifted in place, Magnus snored...I guess I just can’t comprehend the quiet. It feels out of place, fragile, temporary-“  
“Ephemeral,” Ryland nods, “I know what you mean.”  
Silence lapses between us and Ryland shifts his posture. He looks very tired then yet he blinks away sleep. He is intent on staying with me until I feel like I no longer need him.  
I sympathize with him and take a breath.  
“What should I do then?”  
I don’t mean tonight, I don’t mean for sleep.  
What should I do with this quiet? What should I do with this peace? What should I do with this freedom?  
I’ve spent so long in fear that I miss its chokehold. I cannot rest without it.  
Ryland turns my hand over and traces a pattern on my palm. He stares at my hand intently and his gaze turns soft.  
“Live.”

Morning has no light to offer; the sun is a memory trapped in a history book. The only indication that a new day has passed is the hubbub outside of the Resistance coming to life. Lights ignite as lanterns and fairy lights are lit and people’s voices can be heard.  
I awake slowly, taking my time to move, and see that Solaire has long since left. She had arrived an hour after I had returned to her tent and left much earlier before I had awoken.  
There is a set of clothes to one side of where I rest, faded brown and red clothes, and Solaire has left a note offering me the attire.  
It is a loose fitting tunic and pants that look like they belonged to someone else. After dressing in finery for so long, the concept of used clothing is new-but not unwelcome. I am more than happy to rip off the green dress I wore and swap it for the new clothes. Being in something that did not follow me from that palace provides me with comfort.  
I emerge from the tent in time to see Resistance members begin about their days. A young child breezes past with his sibling, a dwarves guard goes on patrol, and a line gathers outside the makeshift kitchens. Breakfast.  
I stretch and linger uncertain as to where to go. Thankfully, Ryland comes to my rescue.  
He is dressed in clean, red clothing and looks refreshed after a long night of sleep. While there is still something troubling in his gaze, some remnants of the unpleasant meeting from before still clouding his mind, he looks ready to start the day.  
“Morning,” he greets. He motions for me to follow him to the makeshift kitchens.  
I cross my arms awkwardly and bite my lip. “What will happen today?”  
Ryland glances at me from the corner of his eye, sighs, and nods at a passing guard who greets him.  
Last night he had mentioned something about a public meeting. I can already see activity in the distance and hear people murmuring about an event later on in the day.  
“Caligo is in charge of it. The Resistance doesn’t have time to mourn all the dead because we are too busy planning. As soon as one mission ends, another begins. For that reason, we hold a single event for all the fallen in between missions. Caligo says a few words, the council says a few words, and the families carry an offering to the altar. They tend to be old clothing or cloth or whatever the family can spare. It’s burned in a pyre in memory of the fallen and the Resistance holds a moment of silence. Then it’s over and we continue on with our lives. It’s harsh but war doesn’t give time for mourning.”  
I take my time digesting the information and feel another chill up my spine. In the past, mourning lasted days. Families would wear dark colors and be visited by neighbors. It was a very somber affair and gave enough time for people to cope.  
This funeral practice seems like a cruel mockery of old mourning routines. Yet, Ryland is right, it is war and war is not kind. The Resistance have no time to mourn in between deaths.  
“Will you say a few words?”  
We reach the breakfast pavilion. Ryland takes his time answering my question as he hands me a bowl of steaming broth. Broth is the wrong word. The contents of it are little more than boiled water. The Resistance is tight on food and rations what it has. I suddenly feel guilty when I recall all the food Magnus had let go to waste at the palace. He had ate like a king while the others had starved.  
“I attend the ceremony because I have to but I don’t give speeches anymore. At some point, it feels hypocritical.”  
Hypocritical. I wince. Ryland survived while his men died. They were meant to escape with him.  
By the looks of his face and the pained light in his eyes, I can tell it haunts him. Survivor’s guilt weighs on his shoulders and he doesn’t quite know how to face a crowd of mourners.  
I pity him.  
“Then what will you do?” I bite my cheek.  
“Strategy planning. Like I said, as soon as one mission ends, another begins,” Ryland turns away from me.  
I hesitate when he begins to walk away. An emotional wall has fallen between us and I get the feeling he has things he has to work out alone. I decide to give him space.  
The demons he has to fight, the grief he has to overcome, and the guilt he has to shoulder, is for him to defeat. I cannot help him asides from lending him an ear.  
Grinding my teeth, I pour the broth back in the basin untouched and go to find Solaire. 

After some aimless wandering, I find Caligo instead. He walks from place to place talking with Resistance members in sympathetic tones. Like Ryland, he takes his role as a leader seriously and knows his people by name.  
When he sees me, he beckons me forward with a smile. Confidence and cheeriness radiate off him and some of my own troubles evaporate.  
“Hope! Good morning,” Caligo places a hand to his chest and bows his head.  
“Morning,” I reply. I give him an awkward smile in return yet he seems unbothered. I get the feeling that Caligo is someone used to cheering others up.  
He turns his head towards a stage like platform away from us. Some people are lighting a flame on a raised platform. I recall what Ryland had said about the funeral practice and suddenly feel a little less comfortable.  
“When is it?” I nod my head at the crackling flames.  
Caligo’s expression clouds a little. “Ryland told you? It’ll be in the afternoon. We have one every few days. Are you coming?”  
Am I coming? I’m not sure. I say as much and Caligo clasps his hands behind his back.  
“Everyone is welcome. We all have someone to remember, yeah? Don’t be afraid to drop by. We’ve all lost someone.”  
A brief flash of my brother and father register in my mind and I wince. I can almost remember their blood on my skin. I suddenly am in need of a bath.  
“I don’t know any of the men to mourn them,” I say after a brief pause. Their executions are fresh on my mind, but I’ve seen hundreds. To mourn someone I feel responsible for killing seems blasphemous somehow.  
While I lived a high life at the palace dressed in finery and not eating out of choice, those men had foiled away here and starved and died for a cause greater than all of us. To even stand in the area they had once stood feels nauseating somehow.  
Caligo gives me a sympathetic look almost as if he can read my mind.  
“Suffering isn’t a competition, Hope. We’ve all loved and lost. Come to the ceremony to remember those that are gone. This isn’t a funeral, it is a ceremony. We remember instead of mourn.”  
He places a hand on my shoulder gently then takes his leave. I watch him ascend the stage and tend to the flame. His own magic makes the fire grow bigger.  
I bite my cheek then turn away. 

I find Ryland after a brief bath. With the dirt and grime scrubbed off my body, I feel like less of an outsider in my skin.  
Ryland sits on the base of a tree and writes things down on a piece of parchment. A crossbow rests at his feet and he reaches for it when he hears my footsteps. Once he realizes that it is me, he relaxes.  
“Hope,” he greets. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I catch a glimpse of the letter on his knees.  
“Are you alright?” I ask.  
Ryland picks up the letter and turns it over. It looks like official correspondence although I cannot read it. While the handwriting is legible, the language is foreign.  
“Fine. Caligo’s spy network from Magnus’ domain made contact. The Reinforcements that saved me were executed. Some made it out and are headed to other fallaways, others died in battle. The Witch Queen is furious and her Generals have begun a manhunt.”  
I blanch and wrap my arms around myself. Ryland stands and tears the letter into tiny pieces.  
“Will the magic hold?”  
I remember the barrier across the Resistance. Ryland had been able to strip it without magic of his own, so what could Magnus or his men do to it? Could they also find it?  
A hand is placed on my shoulder and Ryland’s gaze is sympathetic.  
“ **Don’t be afraid**. The barrier will hold against anyone but General Klein and the Witch Queen herself. Magnus could ram right into it and not notice it. If he finds our encampment, which is unlikely, he’ll walk into it then appear at the other side without knowing. We’re safe,” he soothed.  
Safe. That and freedom are foreign concepts.  
I relax although a part of me still feels uneasy and watch as Ryland gathers the crossbow. The wood looks old and beaten. Caligo had an expensive sword strapped to his belt, yet Ryland’s weapon looks like it had seen better days.  
I give him a questioning look.  
Ryland glances at his crossbow and traces a finger around the handle. There’s a worn crest on it that almost looks familiar.  
“It was Lord Wolfson’s,” he answers my unasked question, “he gave it to me when he died. It’s a memory.”  
I nod and recall his Lord. While I had never met Lord Wolfson, I had heard of him. People had said he was a great leader and the hope of the world.  
Ryland strings the crossbow on his back and nods at me. He does not look like he cares to elaborate on the subject. Like before, there is a pain to him that runs deep. I dare not pry.  
We walk back into the encampment in silence. I do not know what to say to him now, although I burn with thousands of questions, and Ryland seems content with the quiet.  
Finally, we reach the center of the camp again. A crowd has gathered before the stage and Caligo is saying something. From far away, I can’t make out his words.  
Ryland winces.  
“I lost track of time. The ceremony started early,” he guided me towards the crowd.  
“Is that them?” I nod at the line of people on stage.  
Women and men line shoulder to shoulder with somber expressions. They hold garments in their hands and toss them one by one into the flames. I watch as the fire devours their offering. Smoke rises and a hush falls across the crowd.  
Ryland tenses next to me and he closes his eyes. His head bows and the muscles in his cheek jumps.  
I watch the fire ignite stronger as more offerings are tossed in. Ash follows in their wake and some of it drifts up into the dark sky. Someone has tossed in a white piece of cloth which looks like burning snow as its ash rises.  
For some reason, that makes something inside me ache.  
No one cries at this ceremony. The widows and children of the fallen look somber, yet none of them weep. I recall what Caligo had said earlier. The Resistance does not mourn, rather, they remember.  
The moment of silence ends and Caligo closes with some remarks. Ryland jolts out of his trance and spins around. I follow his quick strides away.  
“Are you alright?” I ask again. My hand catches his arm.  
Ryland slows down to match my pace and clenches his jaw.  
“I don’t like the ceremony. It was my idea to host it in the first place, but I passed it on to Caligo years ago. I hate it.”  
I let him take my bandaged hand in his. He is careful not to press down on it where the wound still gives dull aches every now and then.  
“Why?” I ask softly.  
Ryland glances back where the crowd is dispersing. Caligo lingers with the families to talk. He takes his time to address each person by name and offers words of comfort.  
Ryland’s jaw clenches and he turns away as if the image is too painful to stomach.  
“I gave so many speeches back then. I hosted that ceremony for years and talked to every person that was on that stage. In the end, I ran out of things to say.”

Ryland’s mood lifts as we get further from the ceremony. He leads me to the makeshift kitchen where Solaire and a few others flit about preparing dinner. Although I haven’t eaten all day, I don’t feel very hungry. Years of suppressing my appetite have made it difficult to feel it.  
Ryland lets go of my hand gently and clasps his hands behind his back. He stops to address each person and ask if they need assistance. He reminds me of a Lord running his household.  
“Do we have enough supplies for dinner? We can send scouts for more if we’re running low,” Ryland murmurs to Solaire. Solaire greets me with a soft smile before answering Ryland’s question.  
“Enough for the week. Caligo already organized a supply run for next week. We’ll be fine until then,” she replies. She turns away from him and to me.  
Whatever she sees on me, her lips draw tight.  
“Are you hungry, Hope?” She reaches for a basket off to one side.  
“No,” I shake my head.  
A frown paints her features and she thrusts the basket at me. It is full of fruits and berries. She waves it expectantly.  
“You don’t eat much. Why?” She gives me a warning look.  
I deliberately ignore her question and stare down at the fruit. Catching sight of a strawberry, I fish it out and wave the rest of the basket away.  
She refuses to budge and holds it out for me expectantly. When Ryland reaches for something, she draws it back in a rush.  
“Not you,” she hisses.  
Ryland makes a sound of protest and reaches for it again. “Why?”  
Solaire takes a cloth from behind her and picks an assortment of berries for me. She hands it over to me and nearly shocks me with her magic when I refuse to take it. A warning spark comes close to my hand and I relent.  
“You may be the Captain of the Resistance but you’re still banned from the kitchens. You and Caligo are nothing but trouble. Caligo flirts with the staff and you nitpick,” Solaire retorts.  
“I used to run the kitchens for Reiner. You worked under me,” Ryland fights back.  
Their argument is entertaining and I smile despite myself. Solaire turns to argue, catches sight of my face, and a tension leaves her body. She looks relieved to see my smile and her own lips turn up.  
Ryland turns as well and smiles softly. A strange quiet falls in between them.  
I feel uncomfortable and glance between them.  
“What?” I press the strawberry to my lips in an attempt to hide my face.  
Ryland snaps out of it first. He glances away and manages to snag a berry from the basket and pop it in his mouth before Solaire Can stop him.  
“You have a beautiful smile,” he answers.  
I color at the thought of being called beautiful and awkwardly bite into the strawberry. Solaire waves her fingers and a broom hits Ryland’s legs. She scolds him for stealing from her and he retorts something about being her Captain.  
I watch it with mild interest then fish another strawberry from the bundle Solaire gave me. This does not go unnoticed.  
“Do you like strawberries, Hope?” Solaire inquires. She moves the basket out of reach from Ryland and sparks magic at her fingertips to warn him off.  
I turn the strawberry over in my hands and watch as the candlelight reflects off it.  
“We never had any in the castle. Magnus was allergic to them,” I reply.  
Ryland and Solaire go quiet. A thought passes between them then and I read it on their faces.  
They pity me, I realize. Ryland had said that I was a story he often told his men in order to inspire revolution, and I can see just how deep it went. I am a tragedy come to life.  
For some reason, that bothers me. I set the second strawberry down uneaten and excuse myself. My stomach twists in knots.  
I don’t want to be pitied. Not by the Resistance. 

Ryland catches up to me after a few moments and falls into step beside me. He says nothing about earlier and opts to change the subject.  
“Do you want to go on a walk?” He inclines his head towards the same grove of trees we had been in last night.  
I don’t.  
“I just want to sit down somewhere,” I answer back. I feel uncomfortable and want to be alone.  
Ryland must read it in my body language because he stops. Understanding fills him and he nods his head at me before shuffling his feet awkwardly.  
“I go to the edge of the encampment when I need to think. The trail leads there if you follow it. No one goes there but the occasional guard on patrol so you won’t be bothered. Do you want to talk?”  
It’s my choice whether to say yes or no. Ryland doesn’t pry and leaves it entirely up to me.  
I am grateful for it but I turn him down.  
“I’m fine,” I reply.  
I am not fine. He knows it and I know it, but he will honor my wish. He nods at the trail I am to follow and turns to walk away.  
I make it a few steps before he spins back around.  
“Do you like music?” He blurts out.  
“Music?” I raise an eyebrow.  
Ryland comes back up to me and nods at the empty camp center. The ceremony flame has been put out and no one is around.  
“We don’t just have funerals there, you know. There’s going to be a little music event there. We host one every day after the funeral ceremony. It’s our way of resisting. Maybe you would enjoy it,” he explains.  
Music. Another foreign concept. At this point I can admit I’ve forgotten everything about my past life.  
I bite my lip. Do I like music? I haven’t done it in so long...  
“When?” I ask.  
“Tomorrow evening.”  
“Maybe,” I reply. I turn around and continue my trek. This time, Ryland lets me go. 

My thoughts are a whirlwind of emotions. I refuse to let myself cry and press my hands to my eyelids.  
I am free, but what is freedom? Is freedom the absence of oppression or is it its own state entirely?  
I’ve been a prisoner for so long that I can no longer remember what it is like to not be in chains. A part of me still lingers in that castle. A part of me still wears that cursed ring and exists as a ghost.  
Another part of me is buried with my brother. Hidden underneath earth and rock, decaying with the passing time. I am alive yet I’ve never felt so dead before.  
I bury my head in my hands and take deep breaths.  
I do not remember my name but Ryland calls me Hope. I am no longer trapped in the castle with Magnus but perhaps I’ve trapped myself in a new cell. I am free but I have no idea what to do with that freedom. I am in the Resistance but exist as a spectator to a cause I feel outside of. I am alive yet I feel like a corpse.  
My existence is one big parallel that never aligns.  
I stand from my seat and pace the length of the trees. My hands wrap around myself as if in embrace and I take shallow breaths.  
The urge to cry is overwhelming yet what right do I have to mourn?  
The Resistance has toiled away and fought for the right to exist. These people have seen more death and despair than what I could ever imagine. They are skin and bone from a life of not eating and rationing our their supplies.  
To sit here and wallow in self pity feels like blasphemy.  
I was once a princess trapped in an ivory tower. Ryland had said it himself. My prison had been a castle where staff had obeyed me, meals had been served daily, and a warm bed had greeted me nightly. The worst I had ever had to endure was Magnus and I had learned to do that. I had learned to keep my mouth shut, learned to obey, and learned to retreat into a far corner of my mind when he touched me.  
Truly, I had not suffered as much as the Resistance. So what right did I have to be here? Why had I survived when those men had died?  
I grind my teeth in frustration and take shallow breaths.  
Caligo had said suffering was not a competition and he was right. Suffering was not a competition but a scale. And on that scale, I fell flat.  
Fighting back tears, I reeled in my emotions. It wasn’t hard, years with Magnus had taught me that, and I felt better. Now that my feelings were under lock and key, I felt like I could breathe.  
Taking a final breath, I steeled myself and returned to the encampment.  
I had no right to complain or cry, and I was determined to see it through. 

The next morning sees me and Solaire at the makeshift kitchen. Solaire has refused to let me leave until I finish all of my breakfast and all of my complaints have fallen on deaf ears.  
I swirl my spoon around the porridge and feign eating. My appetite is nonexistent.  
Solaire moves about the kitchen preparing a meal for the event tonight. Like Ryland had said, there was often a musical event the day after the funeral ceremony. It was apparently a lively affair and the Resistance was buzzed with energy.  
“What exactly is it?” I tilt my head in the direction of the center.  
Solaire’s lips quirk up in a smile and she passes me a tea. It’s warm scent envelops me and soothes me.  
“It’s the Live and Prosper Event. The Resistance has been hosting one since it was formed. Ryland and Caligo came up with it. We gather together and dance, drink, talk, and have fun.”  
I digest the information and continue to refuse to digest my food. My spoon swirls around the bowl.  
“Is it nice?” I ask.  
Solaire narrows her eyes at me and warns me to eat. I sigh and take a spoonful to humor her. Content, she continues about her chores.  
“I enjoy it and so does everyone else. It is nice to let loose every once and a while,” she replies.  
I watch as some porridge drips from my spoon and into the bowl.  
I can’t remember the last time I danced. Magnus hated music and the Generals never held balls. Life at the palace was always somber.  
Solaire slides into the seat opposite of me and urges me to keep eating. I make a face and manage another spoonful.  
“What is with your small appetite?” Her tone is gentle but her eyes are exasperated.  
I swallow down the spoonful although it feels like lead in my stomach.  
“Magnus believed a lady should not eat a lot. He was very insistent on training me to have perfect manners,” I murmur.  
A flash of a memory surfaces. A memory of being yelled at as Magnus had nit picked at my posture at the table and use of the proper fork envelops me. I push it back and my hand begins to shake. My appetite leaves me again.  
Solaire rests her chin on her hand and her gaze is sympathetic.  
“You grew afraid to eat, didn’t you? There is a part of you still afraid at being yelled at for eating ‘improperly’,” her tone is soft but there is an edge to it. I have a feeling she’s adding another tally against the Generals.  
I set the spoon down and slide the bowl away. This time, she doesn’t protest.  
“I don’t eat much,” I shrug.  
Solaire bits her lip and picks at her uniform. Unlike the reds the Resistance wears, her teals are of the Witch Queen.  
“Do you recognize me at all, Hope?” She leans forward.  
I give her a quizzical stare. “No.”  
Solaire sighs and leans back. She doesn’t look like she had expected me to say yes.  
“I am a spy for Caligo. I used to work in Lennox’s domain. There was once a dinner he hosted for the Generals and the Witch Queen. You came along with Magnus and were the only person not of their group. No other General but Magnus has a partner, so you were all alone. Magnus refused to let you sit at the same table. They had a smaller table at the far end of the room made for you. It was a child’s setting and made to humiliate you.”  
The memory surfaces and I wince.  
“I remember,” I reply.  
Solaire keeps going. “I was a staff member that day. I remember the harsh whispers the Generals said about you. They mocked you loud enough so you could hear. It was amusing to them to see how obedient Magnus’ little toy was. I saw you almost cry.”  
I bite down on my cheek hard and make no noise. Solaire puts her hand over mine. I realize my hands are shaking.  
“I remember thinking, ‘poor, poor girl’. You did not deserve any of it. It was a relief when Lennox called the dinner to a close. I wanted to approach you but Magnus had dragged you out,” she takes a deep breath, “I regretted not doing anything.”  
I allow her to hold my hand and force down the tears rising.  
“You must have thought I was weak. I didn’t fight back,” I close my eyes. The Resistance has fought for so long yet I took all of it. Perhaps I am a coward-  
“No,” Solaire’s voice is harsh, “I thought you were strong. You took all of it without flinching. I was in awe of you. They tried to humiliate you then, but they only humiliated themselves.”  
I blink away the tears and get ready to stand. Solaire stops me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.  
“Hope, you can talk to me if you want. I may not have been able to talk then, but I can now. You have a lot of grief on your shoulders. It is okay to cry-“  
“I have nothing to cry over. You and the resistance have suffered more than me.”  
Solaire’s lips thin.  
“That is ridiculous. No one’s suffering is any less than someone else’s,” she scans my face.  
I turn away and change the subject.  
“Is there another council meeting? Ryland and Caligo are nowhere to be found,” I cross my arms together.  
Solaire looks like she doesn’t want to change the subject, but she relents. She inclines her head and something passes through her gaze. I am reminded of Ryland on that first night. There was something he did not want me to know then about the meeting, and Solaire seems to agree with him.  
“Yes but it’ll be brief. No one will miss the Live and Prosper Event,” she answers.  
I scan her face for answers as to what she is hiding but turn up none. Frowning to myself, I turn around and leave. 

True to Solaire’s claim, the Council meeting wraps up early. Ryland and Caligo emerge together. Like before, they look bitter about something and talk in hushed tones. When they spot me, however, they suddenly stop. Caligo clamps his teeth down and color blooms across his face. For some reason, he looks worried that I have overheard something.  
A paranoid part of me wonders if maybe the meeting had something to do with me, but I push it down.  
Ryland greets me although his smile seems a little stressed. The meeting has really irritated him.  
“Are you ready for the Live and Prosper Event?” He nods at the center where people are beginning to mill about.  
“What is that event anyway?” I follow in step with Caligo and Ryland.  
“The Live and Prosper is another way we fight the Witch Queen. The Witch Queen wants us to die, yet we defy her through this. Instead of dying, we will Live and Prosper,” Caligo chirps up. He leans towards me with a flirtatious wink, “why don’t you save me a dance?”  
I flush and take a step back. “I am sure you have scores of people lining up for a dance with you. It is rude to cut in line.”  
Caligo snorts and Ryland cracks a smile. They open their mouth to say something when music begins to drift through.  
The sound is so beautiful that I have to stop. It has been a long time since I heard instruments playing. A lively fairy melody begins to play and the festival begins. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythm. The beat of the music sends a wave of emotion over me.  
I must have liked to dance before. My body seems to remember a melody without me thinking about it.  
I open my eyes when Ryland extends his hand. Caligo is slinking away mouthing ‘dance with her or I will’ and winking at him. He blushes.  
“Do you want to dance?” Ryland asks.  
I stare at his palm and feel another urge to dance. It is strong this time and a part of me really, really wants to lose myself in the music.  
I take his hand in mine and let him lead me to the center. People are dancing to the rhythm, an old fairy dance, and laughter rises up.  
A tension I hadn’t known I was holding snaps. I smile, the first time I’ve felt truly at peace, and match Ryland’s steps. His hand comes to my waist and doesn’t drift. He leans forward and sets a pace for the dance.  
He has an old way of moving. His steps are rehearsed and formal. If I hadn’t known he was a servant for a Lord before, I would have known now. Everything about him reads propriety.  
I lean into him, take in his scent of pine, and match his rhythm. My body somehow knows how to respond. I must have liked dancing, once upon a time.  
The music picks up in pace and Ryland spins me around. I laugh and the sound makes him smile. He turns me in his arms and his eyes are impossibly warm.  
“Live and Prosper, Hope,” he murmurs.  
I close my eyes, listen to the rhythm, and nod. The Witch Queen wants us dead, but we won’t give in. This is how we resist. As well as fighting, we don’t let her have our happiness.  
“Live and Prosper, Ryland.”  
I turn back towards him and the song begins to come to a close. When he dips me at the final step, I catch a whiff of something.  
Someone drifts past with a tray of alcohol in one hand and offers it to people-  
And just like that I freeze.  
The alcohol triggers something in me. I remember drinking it to escape Magnus every night. Drinking while he ate to hide behind q daze. To hide from my own body every night.  
I begin to shake and I tear away from Ryland. His eyes widen.  
“Hope?” He reaches out to me.  
I shake in place and take a deep breath. “I need to be excused.”  
I turn to run but he catches up to me. His eyes are worried and he looks frightened for me. He snags my arm in his and gives me a pleading look.  
“Come with me, talk to me,” he pleads.  
I am in no mood to be alone. I shake in place and nod slowly.  
Ryland takes a deep breath and guides me away from the event. Music is still playing but it no longer seems welcoming. He leads us back into the same wooded clearing we had been in the night before.  
After some walking, we are far enough away that the music sounds muffled. I move to sit and Ryland uses his coat as a blanket like before.  
I tuck my knees to my chest and shake. Horrible memories play through my head and I bury them down. Tears prick at the corners of my eye and I resist them.  
Ryland sits next to me and gently takes my hand.  
“What happened?” His voice is soft and worried.  
I pinch my nose to keep from crying. Slowly, I take a deep breath.  
“Wild flowers,” I murmur.  
He gives me a questioning look but waits for me to elaborate. I do so after another breath.  
“Whenever Magnus wanted me, I would retreat into a field of wildflowers. My mind was locked away from him and I was free. He could do whatever he wanted to my body, but my mind was untouchable,” I bite my lip.  
Ryland closes his eyes with realization. “Did I do something? I was holding you-“  
“No, no I don’t mind you holding me. It was the scent. I used to drink beforehand because alcohol helped me get to that field faster. You didn’t do anything,” I murmured.  
My hands continued to shake and I clenched them into fists. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”  
Ryland gives me a look.  
“You never have to apologize,” he states. He turns so that he is fully facing me but is careful to not touch me. “Do you want to talk about it? I can get Solaire if you would feel more comfortable.”  
I shake my head and bite down on my lip. My hands are still shaking and my eyes are burning.  
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.  
You don’t deserve to cry.  
I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m fine.”  
“We both know that is a lie,” Ryland murmurs. He stares at me before closing his eyes.  
“Do you need to cry, Hope? Crying helps.”  
I wince and force my tears down. “Why? There are others out there suffering more. They don’t cry.”  
I think about the Resistance family members refusing to cry over their lost loved ones, I think about the strength in the crowd as they mourned. None of them cried and they’ve lost so much more-  
“Crying is not a bad thing, Hope. There is no suffering requirement before a person is allowed to cry. Your grief is your own. You may not have the same experiences as someone else but that doesn’t mean your hardships are any less valid. Do you need to cry?” He repeats it again and stares into my eyes.  
I tremble.  
Caligo had said the same thing. Solaire had too. A part of me is starting to bend.  
Ryland continues. “You’ve been holding in too much. You can exhale now, Hope. Cry if you need to.”  
I open my mouth to deny it but something in me snaps. My quivering increases tenfold and a sob breaks through. I press my hand to my mouth to block it but something in me has shattered. The wall I had built to hide my pain cracks and comes crashing down.  
I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my life and Ryland sits up. He looks like he wants to comfort me but has no idea how. His hands remain firmly at his sides, afraid to touch me and bring up another memory, and I shake my head.  
I fling myself at his arms and cry into his shirt. His hands come around my waist and he lets me rest my head on his neck. He murmurs soothing things under his breath and lets me cry.  
I’ve never cried this hard before but a part of me needed this. A part of me needed to cry and let it all out. Bottling things in was not working.  
I don’t know how long I cry for, long enough for the music to drift quieter and quieter, and finally catch my breath. Ryland holds me close still murmuring comforting things underneath his breath. He doesn’t rush me or tell me to stop. When he comforts me he is not trying to get me to stop crying, rather, he is telling me to let it all out.  
I quiver as the last of my tears dry. Ryland’s shirt is soaked in tears yet he says nothing. He wipes some of my tears with his thumb and waits for me to tell him I am better.  
I am better.  
I take a deep breath and straighten. My head pounds from my breakdown but a weight I hadn’t realized I had been carrying has lifted. I feel so much more refreshed.  
“Thank you,” I turn to him. My vision is still a little blurry from crying but I can make out the gentle way Ryland gazes at me.  
“You can always count on me,” he murmurs. He is still afraid to touch me and extends his hand. A question.  
I take it without hesitation and lean into him. His scent is comforting and his heartbeat soothes me. I almost fall asleep tucked into his side but catch myself. Not that Ryland would have minded that. He offers no complaint as I rest my head against his chest and strokes my hair instead. I have a feeling that if I told him to **hold me and never let me go,** he’d comply with no complaint.  
“Thank you,” I repeat. This time, it is not just about comforting me.  
Ryland finds the hidden meaning of my words and reaches for my hand. He raises it to his lips and presses a light kiss against the bandage. It doesn’t hurt anymore.  
He looks down at me, eyes soft with something warm and kind, and opens his mouth to say something. I lean forward towards him, something in me also melting.  
His eyes are so soft and his voice is almost timid. “Hope, I...”-  
A horrible noise reaches our ears.  
It comes from all around us and sends a shiver down my spine. I freeze and raw and utter fear fills me.  
“Captain Goldhart,” Magnus’ voice carries out from everywhere in the encampment, “You took my wife and you will return her to me!”


	4. “Feels like home.” / “I wish I had never met you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> “Feels like home.” / “I wish I had never met you.”

I have been safe for so long that I forgot what it was to feel genuine fear. My entire body paralyzes and a cold feeling spreads from the top of my head to my feet. Magnus’ voice echoes around the encampment and the music from afar stills immediately.   
Ryland, previously sitting across from me, shoots up to his feet. He reaches for his back before remembering that he does not have his crossbow. Gritting his teeth, he holds out his arm for me and looks around as if he could spot Magnus somewhere in the trees.   
“He found us,” I manage. My voice sounds distant, hollow, and I feel lightheaded. Fear gnaws at me and it is a miracle that I can remain standing.   
Of course Magnus found us. Did I ever truly believe I could be free? Was I ever really that delusional?  
Ryland’s back is rigid and his eyes scan our surroundings. A muscle in his jaw jumps and his entire body is poised for an attack. Even unarmed and alone, he is ready to fight to the very end.   
“Impossible,” he sounds like he is trying to convince himself of the fact, “The encampment is heavily guarded. Magnus has no way of knowing we are here.”  
I open my mouth to retort something, Magnus’ message still echoing against the trees as proof of how wrong he is, but people rush at us all at once.   
Solaire is running towards us with her hands clenched at her sides and Caligo is hot at her heels. Both their expressions look tense, worried, and they skid to a halt before us.   
Breathless, Solaire reaches us first. She calls for Ryland, hears the message replaying like a mantra from somewhere from afar, and her teeth clench tightly together. Although her face is impassive, projecting bravery for my sake if not her own, I can still see the fear in her eyes. She is afraid of Magnus and of the encampment being discovered.   
Guilt twists my stomach into knots. I am the reason all of this is happening.   
“It’s Magnus, Ryland,” Solaire manages out. Magic shimmers in between her fingers, bright lights twisting dangerously at her fingertips, and she scans the horizon. “We have to ready our militia.”  
Caligo reaches us next and his blade is at his side. One hand is gripped so tightly on the hilt that it is white. “There is no way any of the Witch Queen’s forces could have found us. Our wards are up. We cannot jump in blindly, Ryland...”  
He hurries in a ramble, explaining a mass of names and decisions they need to take, and I block it out. There is a white noise in my ears and I begin to sway on my feet. Magnus’ voice is gone now, replaced by the sounds of the people below panicking, and the silence is much worse.   
Ryland, Solaire, and Caligo are hurriedly discussing things amongst themselves. Over the roar in my ears, I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re gesturing wildly and bickering.   
I press a hand to my temple and make it a few steps away before bright spots dance across my vision. I feel like throwing up and passing out. This entire thing is my fault. I have led Magnus here into the safety of this encampment and now everyone is in danger.   
“Hope?” Ryland is at my side in moments and one of his hands holds onto my own. Concern shines in his blue eyes and he holds me steady. In my queasy state, he is the only thing holding me together. I lean into him for support and blink until some of the strength returns in my legs.   
“Is he here?” I dig my nails into the skin of his palm. Although he winces, he doesn’t let go.   
Solaire and Caligo are at my side in moments. Whatever bickering had transpired between them is gone in an instant.  
Solaire’s voice is soft.   
“No, he is not here. The wards are still up, I would have sensed him taking them down. Easy,” she holds out her arms and Ryland gently nudges me towards her. I let her comfort me, my entire body is quivering like a leaf, and try to reign in my breathing.   
Some of the people below are still panicking and the music from the festival has long since stilled. Caligo rakes a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I will go calm them and do damage control. Ryland, call an emergency council meeting. Magnus has found us even if he has not quite found us yet.”   
He spins on his heels and marches down below. Ryland stares at me for another fraction, looks like he wants to stay, then descends after Caligo.   
I lean against Solaire until I almost topple her over with my weight. She wraps her arm tightly against my frame and murmurs something about needing a drink. I go with her willingly. 

———

The scent of the lavender tea somehow helps me. Away from the woods and the echo of Magnus’ voice, I feel like I can breathe again. My hands clench around the tea cup tightly and I stare down at the steam rising from the liquid.   
“The wards are still up?” I ask. I’ve asked it about five times now but Solaire hasn’t grown irritated with me yet. She is entirely patient as she nods.   
“It would be impossible for Magnus to break the wards on his own. A magical ward like the one around our encampment needs powerful magic to shatter it. Magnus has no magic of his own. You are safe,” her hand rubs a light circle on my back.   
Outside, the lights of the encampment are being winked out slowly. The council is meeting tonight and Caligo has ordered a curfew. The night’s festivities have been quieted and the atmosphere in the camp, previously bright and cheery, has dampened. Like a switch, the once festive day has turned into something wretched.   
I raise the teacup to my lips just to give myself something to do. The liquid burns my mouth and the pain is a welcome respite from the trouble brewing inside my own mind.   
Solaire is right, Magnus’ army has not broken through the camp and there is no indication that they are around us, so logic says I am safe, still a part of me is worried. Fear has such a constant presence on my mind that it snaps back into place like a rubber band.   
Of course I had not seen the last of Magnus. For all of Ryland’s talk of hope and escape, he cannot protect me forever. Although the ring that bound me to him is long since gone, I am still tied to him in many ways. I can never be free.   
A shiver runs down my spine and I force myself to breathe. Forcing air into my lungs is a distraction. I straighten my spine and bite down on the inside of my cheek.   
“What does the council want to do?” I press my lips tightly together. _What will they do with me?_  
Magnus specifically asked Ryland for _me._ I am the one that led them here. What will the council do with me when I have brought trouble to their front?   
Solaire seems to have arrived at the same train of thought. Like before, something passes through her gaze, and she entertains herself with dissolving sugar into her own tea. I am reminded of Caligo and Ryland doing much the same whenever I asked about council meetings. There is a piece of information they don’t want me to know.   
Suspicion fills me and I repeat her name under my breath. “Solaire. What will the council do?”   
Solaire opens her mouth to answer my question when the partition separating the kitchen tent is lifted. Caligo and Ryland stride in both looking exhausted and frustrated. Caligo flings himself into a chair and presses a hand to his face while Ryland eases into the seat next to me and gives me a concerned glance.   
“Are you alright?” Ryland’s voice is soft and he stretches a hand out to me as an invitation. I am free to reject it or accept it.   
I opt for the latter and take his hand in mine. A point of contact does more to comfort me than I can voice. Our fingers intertwine together and I nod my head slowly.   
“I feel better,” I murmur. It is only partially a lie and I cannot bring myself to feel much remorse for it.   
Ryland nods, relieved, and squeezes my fingers. His gaze is intense on me, thousands of thoughts shining there, and I am lost in the moment for a brief second-  
Before Caligo coughs awkwardly and shatters whatever spell had transpired between us. He seems apologetic as he interrupts our time but concern and leadership burn in him. He and Ryland are captains and their responsibilities are large.   
I release Ryland’s hand and shift closer to Solaire. The three around me revert back into leadership mode. As if forgetting my presence, they begin to strategize.   
“I talked with my spy network and got a few messages out. Magnus is not anywhere near here. The message he broadcasted is magical and has been broadcasted all over the lands. He has no idea where we are and is just bluffing,” Caligo drums his fingers against the wooden table.   
Solaire scoffs. Her hand sparks at the fingertips and her magic cracks the air. “The wards are still up strong and I cannot sense General Klein or the Witch Queen anywhere near. As long as they remain far away, we are safe and can outlast Magnus. He has nothing.”  
Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose and stares out. The camp is dark now, the curfew in effect, and the quiet is a haunting reminder of everything we have to lose. There are women and children here, people that deserve to live more than I do, and I pose a direct threat to their existence.   
“Caligo-order your spies to keep an eye out for information. We need Magnus’ location at all times and we need to know where the other Generals are. Solaire, keep track of the people here and keep them in line. Everyone is frightened but they have to know that they are safe and that we will do everything to keep them that way. I will gather my men and await the council’s order.”   
A brief pause, I digest the information, and Solaire bites her lip.   
“What did the council rule?” Her voice is a low whisper to Caligo. He glances at her and some of the tension returns to his face.   
“They are going to a vote. Ryland and I tried to stop them but tonight has motivated them further. They are calling a meeting tomorrow morning to decide on what to do.”  
“Decide on what?”   
The question leaves my lips before I can stop it. The three around me jolt as if suddenly reminded that I am still present. Tension enters the air around us and Caligo clicks his mouth shut while Solaire looks at her hands. No one seems willing to speak and I feel frustrated.   
“Ryland!” I hiss his name out and turn to him. Like the other two, he seems worried and refusing to speak.   
“Council meetings are confidential, Hope,” he looks away from me.   
The stress and tension from the day is too much for me. I stand up so suddenly that my chair bangs against the counter. The three flinch at the sound but say nothing as I storm off.  
“Fine. Don’t tell me.”

———

The cold night air helps soothe some of the stress lingering on my shoulders. I take lungfuls of it until some sense of control returns. My hands clench and unclench at my sides, and I pace the length of Solaire’s tent.   
I run through the day’s events in my head just to get some clarity of mind.   
I danced with Ryland at the Live and Prosper event, I suffered a breakdown from a memory of Magnus, and Magnus broadcasted a message for Ryland demanding me back.   
Some of the headache from before returns in a sharp pinprick, I clench my jaw and continue my breathing exercise. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.   
Magnus isn’t here, the wards are still up, I’m safe.   
Safety is a foreign concept, a word without a meaning, yet some of the fear eases out of my mind. I sit down and press my knees to my chest. The lamplight in the tent flickers and lowers. The wax has melted to a tiny inch and the camp around me is still dead silent.   
I feel bad for snapping at Ryland earlier, he had no obligation to divulge council secrets to me, but I am not quite ready to face him just yet. Instead, I blow out the candle and roll my shoulders back. Perhaps sleep, however brief, will help me calm down. 

———

I am asleep for a little more than an hour when a light wakes me. The outside of the tent is illuminated and someone is calling my name softly. I recognize his voice as well as I can recognize my own.   
“Ryland,” I breathe out. I sit up and ease the tent flap open to see him.  
He has a candelabra in his hand and the flame flickers dark shadows over his face. His crossbow is perched on his back and he looks tired. Exhaustion traces the lines of his face and his eyes burn with millions of different thoughts. Whatever he is hiding from me, what they are all hiding from me, is not pleasant.   
“You’re awake?” Ryland greets. He raises the candles up higher to illuminate my face. I blink in the sudden light and wrap my arms around my frame.   
The air is chilly and the eternal darkness is deeper somehow, we’re still plunged in night. I am very aware of the quiet around us. Curfew has fallen over the camp like a blanket and the very air is charged with something expectant. It is like the whole world is waiting for something, something to tip the scales between safety and danger, but we’re not quite there yet. Somehow, I’m not sure which is worse. Is the wait worse than the outcome?  
“You woke me up,” I shrug and let him know I am not upset. If he had not woken me, another nightmare would have. “Can I help you?”  
He shifts his weight from foot to foot, awkward, and clears his throat. When he meets my eyes, sincerity burns there brighter than the candles in his hand.   
“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I kept you in the dark and it was wrong of me-“  
“You had to. Council meetings are private,” I wave away his apology, “I am fine.”  
I am not fine, irritation is still at the edge of my consciousness and there is definitely a part of me that still twists with anger at Ryland, Caligo, and Solaire for hiding secrets from me, but I am tired and do not want to sour our time together. I would rather enjoy the calm before the storm and spend time with my friends without worry or anger.   
Ryland exhales, slowly, and shakes his head. A strand of his hair has fallen over his forehead and I realize for the first time how unkept the looks. His hair is mussed from sleep, his clothing is rumpled, and his fingers are at the candlestick like a lifeline. Had he been asleep before? Had a nightmare awoken him?  
“Are you alright?” I step closer to him to see him more clearly. Dark circles are under his eyes and there’s a red line on his bottom lip where his teeth had broke the skin. He looks as exhausted and frightened as I feel.   
A humorless sound leaves his throat and he nods outside at the darkened camp. A walk, he wants the fresh air.   
Without another word, I take his lead. The camp is utterly silent as we walk past rows of tents, and everyone around us is asleep.   
The candle in his hand is the only guide through the treacherous path. The fairy lights that had previously lined the walkways have been removed and the Main Tent, usually always lit, is pitch black.   
I shiver at the breeze and rub at my arms with my hands. “Did you have a nightmare, Ryland?”   
“A night terror, more like, I thought I outgrew them as a kid,” he scratches at his neck, “Caligo suggested I pace around and tire myself out.”  
We pass by the Main Tent and his shoulders grow tenser, so my first inclination was right then. There’s something about the council that they don’t want me to know and it is causing them great stress.   
“Where is Solaire?” I ask suddenly. She had never returned to her tent and there are no lights in the Main Tent.   
Ryland snorts under his breath. “She and the rest of the council called an emergency meeting behind my back. They want to discuss things without Caligo or I present. Solaire says there is a lot of in fighting between them now more than ever.”  
I digest his words and turn them over in my head. My stomach twists with apprehension, worry, but I shove it aside. We pass by the next row of tents easily and find our way to the same clearing we were in earlier.   
The fairy lights are off here too, someone has removed them, and the darkness feels suddenly more oppressive. I hang back uneasily as Ryland sets the candles down on the ground and slides to the bottom of the white oak tree. He runs a hand through his hair and blinks down at the ground trying in vain to gather his thoughts.   
I sit myself opposite of him, casting a weary glance at the edges of where my eyes can see, and reach out with my magic. The wards are still up, I can sense them with my powers like a cement wall invisible to the naked eye, yet a part of me is still worried. Magnus can’t find them or break them on his own, but if General Klein or the Witch Queen accompany him...  
I shudder and force my attention elsewhere. Ryland is staring at the flickering candle as the last of his night terror fades away. He looks calmer now, yet a dark cloud continues to loom over him. I clear my throat.   
“Are you okay now?”   
It is a foolish question, the dark circles under his eyes certainly give away the answer, but it is one I feel like I must ask. Asking if a person is okay is never about knowing their answer; instead, it is about letting them know that you care what their answer is.   
“I feel better than what I did a few minutes ago, yes,” he replies. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. He and I have the same habit, of breathing in and out in increments, and I see some of the tension bleed out of him.   
I move so that I can be closer to him, see him better over the flickering candle light, and wait for him to be ready to speak. Hours ago, he brought me comfort here, now I want to do the same.   
“Do you want to talk about it?” I sit myself so that our shoulders are together. I can feel his breath on the side of my face.   
He shakes his head. “No, talking about them makes them feel real.”  
“Not talking about them keeps them bottled up inside,” I counter. My fingers clench against the fabric of my clothing. Does saying that make me a hypocrite or an expert?  
Silence reigns between us and I am not sure whether it is peaceful or not. There are thousands of things churning in his mind, words he refuses to say and thoughts he doesn’t want to delve into, but some of the tension is leaving him now. He looks more relaxed and the previous stress from his night terrors is gone almost as if it had never been there in the first place.   
I bite my lip and watch the wax drip down the candelabra. Time is passing between us, the silence stretching on, and I can’t help but wonder about where we go from here.   
Magnus doesn’t know where the fallaway camp is, he is looking for me blindly, but he is still searching. How long will it take him to bring Helena or the Witch Queen with him? They will spot the enchantments before they even get within a mile of the camp. We cannot hold out against them.   
I clench my fists in my lap and break the silence. Ryland moves slightly at the sound of my voice, and I realize, with some remorse, that he was drifting off. Oops.   
“What is going to happen now? Magnus is looking for me,” I whisper. It is an unpleasant conversation, it shatters whatever relaxing moment we were having, but it is one I desperately need the answer to.   
Ryland takes his time answering it, searching for a way to phrase it properly, before sighing. It seems even the most powerful orator comes up short.   
“Magnus was always looking for us, Hope, nothing will change. He searched for me long before you, and he still will not find me. Not again.”   
_Again._ I am reminded of the way Ryland was captured and his men slaughtered. I hide my wince and Ryland looks away with his jaw tight.   
“He wants me back,” I close my eyes, “It reflects poorly on him to have lost his bride. His ego will not let him abandon the search easily. This may be different.”  
Magnus has an ego that rivals the Witch Queen’s army. I can only imagine the way he is raging now, locked up in his castle without a bride, feeling humiliated because of me. I ran away during a battle where the other Generals were present. Despite any lies he may have cooked up, the others will know I ran and was not taken. It reflects poorly on him. He will search for me and search for me until he finds me because his pride would be damaged beyond repair otherwise.   
I squeeze my eyes shut and think about earlier. Solaire had never answered my question about the council, about their plans moving forward, and Ryland had been none too excited about it either. No one is willing to tell me what the council has in store, and I find myself broaching the subject again.   
“Has the council decided on what to do? They have to have a plan in effect,” I bite the inside of my cheek.   
Ryland winces and more tension returns on his shoulders. He sits up slightly and his hand moves to his pocket as if searching for something. It takes him a long time to answer me.   
“I do not know what they will do. Caligo and I were not invited to their secret meeting tonight. Usually the Captains are the ones to call the meeting, but this time they are anxious to hide things. They whisper under their breaths and stop when we arrive. I think they are plotting something we will not agree with.”  
I pause, let his words sink in, and feel a little nauseous. What could be so secret that even the captains aren’t allowed into the meetings?Another shiver climbs up my spine.   
“You never want to tell me what it is about. You were talking to Caligo before the Live and Prosper event and stopped when I arrived. Does it have something to do with me?”   
I know I have hit the nail on the head as soon as Ryland flinches. His eyes close and he moves his hand deeper into his pocket. I hear the crinkle of paper.   
“I do not want to tell you, no,” he draws in a breath, “It is better if you let me handle it alone. I can fix this without getting you into this mess.”  
“If it involves me, I am already in it. What is it?” I meet his gaze head on and let my resolve burn. Frustration is gnawing at me and irritation is a prickling thing under my skin. I want to know what it is that is worrying my friends so much. They cannot keep me in the dark for so long, not if it involves me too.   
“It is an unnecessary burden, Hope. Caligo, Solaire, and I can manage on our own without troubling you. We can clean up this mess soon even if the Council won’t drop it.”   
He lowers his voice at the end and clenches the paper in his hand into his fist. I won’t let him get away with this. More than ever, I feel angry about being kept in the dark.   
“Ryland...” My voice is dark with a warning and I prop myself on my knees so that we are eye to eye sitting down. He tries to evade my gaze but I follow his eyes with my own. “Tell me.”  
It is not quite a command, I can’t make him do anything else when I am nothing but a guest in his encampment. Still, I make it clear that I want an answer. I am not a maiden in need of defending and cannot keep myself safe if I am unsure of the danger that threatens me. He has to understand that I am broken but not shattered and do not need a keeper.   
By the way his body droops, it looks like he does. His shoulders slump and his hand presses to his face. A wall he had been holding between us, something hiding his emotions from view, cracks and splinters. He lets out a puff of air.   
“The Council is deciding your fate. They called a meeting as soon as we arrived and have been arguing for days without respite. Caligo and I have tried to end their debates and tip the scales in your favor, but they are entirely divided. Magnus’ recent warning only made things worse.”   
Ryland finally pulls out the paper from his pocket. He hands it to me and his fingers linger on the parchment almost as if he wants to withdraw the letter and never show it to me. I have to tug on it sharply to get him to let go.   
The letter is an official document with wrinkles and folds almost as if someone had crumpled it into a ball over and over again in frustration. The handwriting is foreign and I have to strain my vision in the weak candlelight to read.   
The Council has ordered me to appear before them numerous times. They are planning to vote on whether or not to have me stay and are going to be making the final decision soon. By the way the letter is phrased, with frustration and anxiety, it seems like it is not the first time I have been summoned.   
My mouth feels suddenly dry.   
“Have they been calling me all this time?” I ask. I turn over the letter but there is nothing on the back except the signatures of the council members. Solaire’s is missing and none of the Captains have stamped it. It is clear that the Council is acting against their wishes.   
Ryland exhales. “Since your first day here they have requested to meet with you. Caligo and I kept them at bay because you were-you needed time to rest and recover. We wanted to protect you from it.”  
I glare at him sharply, furious, but quell my anger down. Yelling and berating him will solve nothing. I have to keep myself in check and think about this rationally.   
“What does the Council think? Since I’ve apparently refused their summons over and over again.”   
My voice comes out a little sharper than intended and I have to count to ten a few more times to keep my temper in check. Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit of his, and looks anxious.  
“I told them I would not be delivering their messages and that you were not ready to address the Council quite yet. Really, it is nothing dire. The Council has been deadlocked in a vote several times already and will be dismissing the issue soon. You do not have to worry about it.”  
He extends his hand for the document again. I refuse to give it to him. Instead, I scan it again reading it as fast as I can.   
“It seems like something dire,” I point out. The letter is phrased in a very frustrated and official manner. By my ‘refusing’ to answer the summons, I have given the Council no reason to support me.   
Ryland, to his credit, says nothing. He glances away from me and bites his lip. I can feel guilt rolling off him in waves and it makes me feel even more frustrated.   
The Council has been deliberating my fate this entire time and no one apparently thought I should be included in these talks. I fold the letter into a tight square and slip it into my pocket. My mind is racing in a million different directions, and I try to get my bearings.   
“What exactly has the Council said in those meetings? And do not say it is ‘confidential’ because I was supposed to be there to begin with.”  
Ryland kicks at a stone nearby. “The Council is paranoid over newcomers as always. They are afraid that, as Magnus’ bride, your loyalty might lie elsewhere...”  
He drifts off but his meaning is clear. I feel repulsion twist in my stomach. My hands clench into tight fists.   
“They think I am on his side in this? That I am a spy?”   
The idea is so incredulous that I almost laugh. The sound that escapes my throat is entirely devoid of humor or joy. I glare at the distance and keep counting in my head. I should not lose my focus.   
“Obviously, Caligo, Solaire, and I have been doing everything we can to convince them otherwise. Their fears are unfounded and ridiculous. You were a prisoner in that castle and were bound to Magnus by magic and not vows. Your loyalty is to your freedom and you are not and were never supporting him. We have been arguing with them for a long time to reassure them...”  
He drifts off again and I know he is hiding more. Grinding my teeth, I give him a pointed glare. At my look, he sighs and wilts. Like a dam breaking, he continues and holds nothing back.   
“They think Magnus was able to broadcast his message to our rough area because you have been relaying messages to him. We have tried to tell them that, that is impossible, only Caligo and I have the authority to relay messages out of the wards, but they are afraid. People like them, people that have lost everything and are fighting a war with no end in sight, they become paranoid and are blindsided by their desire for survival. They make imaginary enemies as often as children make imaginary friends,” he takes a breath, “You have nothing to worry about. You have both Captains and a Council member on your side. The scales are tipping in your favor.”  
His smile is soft, bright, and I wonder which of us he is trying to convince by saying it. A part of him still feels distant from me. I have the sense that there is more to the story than what he is relaying.   
“You said the Council was entirely divided. What are my odds?”  
The smile slips from his face and he murmurs my name under his breath, a plea, I press on. I am not giving up.   
Finally, he sighs and the sound carries out.   
“It is two to two. Caligo and I have no votes, so the Council is fifty-fifty.” My panic must show on my face because suddenly he is moving forward. His hands catch mine in his own and he is shaking his head. “You are fine. We just need to convince one more person to be on our side and the vote is over. The scales will tip in your favor. Do not lose hope, Hope.”  
His blue eyes are intense as they meet mine. He means it, I realize, he is truly hopeful of the Council. He believes, has to believe, that they will get that final vote in time.   
I am almost comforted by this, almost feel better by his sheer reassurance, but the note in my pocket feels like lead. The letter he had given me seemed to disprove his words. The Council was divided entirely in half. I only need one vote to win, but I also only need one vote to lose.   
“I want to speak with them,” I manage out, “Tell them I will answer the summons.”   
Ryland tries to protest, but I hush him. I hand him back the folded letter and shake my head.   
My mind is spinning with nervousness and anxiety. Speaking in front of people that have the power to decide my fate is terrifying, but leaving my safety up to fate alone is even more so. My mind is made up and no amount of Ryland’s protests can change it.   
“Are they meeting tomorrow?” I ask. Ryland nods. I bite the inside of my cheek hard. “Tell them I will be there.”  
I spin around and leave him there. I can feel his worry from my place here and it echoes my own. Still, I press on. I have to prove that I am not defenseless. 

———

It is evident the next morning that Solaire has stayed up late with the Council. Ryland and Caligo may not have been invited, but Solaire is a Council member and could not be excluded. When I ask her point blank about the meeting, her eyes are casted down.   
“So Ryland told you?” She heaves a sigh and slides a bowl of something hot at me. It is stew for breakfast and I swirl my spoon around to give the appearance of me eating. Really, my appetite still has not returned.   
“Why did you try to hide it from me?” I ask.   
After a night’s rest, I do not feel as angry any more. While I am bitter that I was left out of my own meeting, I can understand a little of why they did it. Ryland said he had done it because I had not been ready right after arriving, and he was probably right. If I had, had to get entangled in politics right after escaping, gods know what my mental state would have been like.   
“To protect you. The Council investigates every new member to the Resistance and they get paranoid very often. We believed we could keep you from it since you had our testimonies. Usually the Council only needs one voucher from a Resistance member for a new recruit, and you had three-two of which belonged to the Captains. We thought you would not need to present your case.”  
“But I reckon most of your recruits were not wed to a General and potentially led them to your doorstep,” I mumble.   
Solaire rolls her eyes. “ ‘Leading him to our doorstep’. Please. The wards are still up and Magnus has no idea where we are. We are safe and you are trustworthy.”  
So the Council did think I led Magnus here. I stab my spoon into the stew in irritation. Solaire continues on and begins peeling a potato with expertise.   
“Caligo’s spy network said that Magnus related that message everywhere all at once. He has no idea where we are and is just blindly screaming at trees. This entire thing is just a fear mongering tactic common with the Witch Queen’s soldiers. We are safe.” She repeats the last phrase again almost as if she could make it more meaningful for me.   
I sigh. “If General Klein or the Witch Queen come here, they will see the wards from miles away. We are only safe as long as they are at a distance.”  
The magical wards around the encampment are invisible to the eye from anyone without magic, but a powerful sorceress like Helena or the Witch Queen would see them immediately. Magnus could smack right into them and keep going without ever realizing it, but they would just need to snap their fingers and the entire magic would come crumbling down. We are not as safe as Solaire and the others want us to believe.   
I sit up and pull the letter from the Council. Caligo had delivered it to me this morning and had tried to talk me out of it. I had ignored him and read it as he rambled on.   
The Council had accepted my proposal and was calling a meeting at noon for me. We were only a few hours away from it.   
“I am speaking to the Council today on my behalf. I do not want to be in the dark anymore,” I press my palms flat against the table, “Help me. I have no idea how the Council works. What do I have to do?”   
I can see that Solaire is apprehensive, she takes the letter from me and gapes as if she wished she could talk me out of it, but my resolve is strong. I want to do this and no one can talk me out of it.   
Realizing this, she sighs. She sits up straighter too and gazes out the kitchen tent where the Main Tent is peeking in the distance. It seems like she is willing to help.   
“There are five council seats but only four council members; the last seat is left empty in memoriam to the Demon race. Caligo and Ryland sit in the meetings as a formality but they have no vote or say in Council matters. We do not have a King or Queen anymore, when our old world fell apart we told ourselves that we wanted to start anew and be equals, so there are no rank structures in the Council. The Captains lead the meetings but the Council is its own thing. I am the representative of the fairy and mermaids while the other three represent their respective races. We each get one vote and we rule on matters. Majority wins the voting process. If you have three votes, you win, period,” She takes a breath, “If the Council ties, we keep voting until the tie is broken. It is a five time rule before the tiebreaker.”   
“What is the tiebreaker? Do Caligo and Ryland vote to decide in the event of a draw?”   
Solaire shakes her head.   
“No. The Captains get no vote at all in the Council. In the event of a tie, each Council member holds a meeting with their Chamber. Each member has a Chamber of ten people of their race. Mine is split into mermaids and fairies. Our Chambers vote and we echo the vote of our chamber. Before this tiebreaker, we vote as we like, but with this tiebreaker we vote as they want us to. The Chambers ultimately have the last say.”  
I digest this information and let it sink in. Finally, I frown.   
“What if the Chamber ties?”   
“Then the Council Member breaks the tie and votes on one side. Now, if the tiebreaker ends in a tie...then the issue is dismissed. So, if you were to go to a tiebreaker and it is tied, the vote is dismissed and you are allowed to remain here since the Council never got jurisdiction to force you out.”   
I press my fingers to my lips in thought. “So the Captains have no say at all? They are the leaders of the Resistance...”  
“They have no jurisdiction in the Council. Caligo leads the spies and Ryland the militia, but politics are an entirely different department. They have no say or vote at all-except in an extreme case.”  
I raise an eyebrow. “Extreme case?”   
“Technically, Ryland and Caligo have the power to veto or annul a Council decision. So, if the Council does something, they have the power to overrule them. I mean, they have never done it, ever, but that is an option for them. They would have to agree to veto the vote together, both of them or else their veto is canceled, but I doubt they would ever go for that extreme. The Council would not like either of them pulling that card after we agreed not to have a monarchy for that very reason.”  
I catalog this information carefully and take a deep breath. Now, more than ever, I am nervous about my Council meeting. These people will decide my fate...I exhale.   
“What do I need to do then?” I ask.   
“Answer questions,” Solaire replies, “Just answer whatever they ask you and keep calm. You have my vote and the human representative vote. We just need one more. It will be fine.”   
I mull this over then remember something. The Council has a five time rule before the tiebreaker. What attempt are they on today?   
When I voice this question out to Solaire, she bites her lip and looks away.   
“Today is the fifth vote.”

———

Noon comes faster than I would like. Soon, I find myself seated before the Council.   
A lone chair is set for me to the front of the Council. They form a semi circle around me, five chairs with only four occupants, and stare me down as I sit. Solaire is to my left, the human councilor next to her, the dwarven right in front of me, the elven next to him, and the empty chair for the demon domain to my right. Caligo and Ryland also have a chair in the semi circle but there is a considerable distance from the Council that I doubt was accidental. The Captains sit together with a distance of about two-chairs separating them from the Council members making it clear that they are only there as a formality.   
Caligo offers me a smile when he sits, and Ryland a reassuring look. Solaire takes her own chair and beams at me from her seat clear that she is on my side. The other three Council members have mixed expressions.   
Once everyone has taken their appropriate seat, quiet descends. There is shuffling of papers and quills on parchment for a long time. I shift nervously in my seat waiting for the meeting to officially begin.   
Finally, Caligo clears his throat. It seems like he is the Captain presiding over the meeting today.   
“I, Captain Caligo Hawkeye, call the Council meeting to order.” He relays the time and date then announces the names of the people present. I very quickly forget the names of the elvish and dwarven counselors. My focus is entirely on the pit of anxiety I feel in my stomach.   
As Caligo speaks, Ryland takes the minutes on a piece of parchment. He takes notes of every word said and the paper is soon full of calligraphy. I have to admire it for a brief second before the main event starts.   
Caligo shuffles his papers and glances at his own messy handwriting. “Let us begin the meeting regarding troop movements following the imminent invasion of the Coastal Domain-“  
It is a brave effort on his part to push down my vote, but it doesn’t work. Instead, the dwarven counselor scoffs and glares at Caligo.   
“Captain Hawkeye, we have more important matters to discuss. Let us not ignore the elephant in the room any longer,” his eyes meet mine, “Lady Vestergaard cannot be allowed to remain.”  
“Lady Hope,” Ryland, Caligo, and Solaire correct immediately. They turn frosty glares on the dwarven counselor and Ryland all but scratches his name on his notes.   
“The fact of the matter remains that Lady Hope cannot stay here. Her presence is a direct threat to this encampment. General Vestergaard is hunting for her-“  
“General Vestergaard is hunting _us_. Lady Hope is just another name added to the Resistance. He would hunt us with or without her,” Solaire corrects and shifts in her seat, “We cannot turn someone away just because the Generals are after them. All of us are hunted down and all of our names dot Wanted Posters. Hope is not an exception.”  
“General Vestergaard specifically asked for her-“  
“And the Witch Queen specifically asked for me in her speeches. Will you deliver my head to her as well if it will save your own skin?” Ryland glares at the Council.   
Caligo kicks him in the shin as a warning and plays peacemaker. He turns to me and there are no traces of the friend in him. Now, presiding over the Council, he is just a politician in charge of a meeting.   
“Lady Hope, you stand accused of conspiring with the Generals. Are you or have you ever been a spy for the Witch Queen?”  
His voice is cold, professional, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.   
“Never,” I reply. My voice comes out tiny the first time so I clear it and repeat it louder.   
“Repeat the full phrase please,” Caligo orders.   
I bite my lip. “I am not nor have I ever been a spy for the Witch Queen.”  
The Elven Counselor speaks next. He is an older elf, gray beard running down the front of his tunic, and his eyes are almost sympathetic.   
“Did you lead General Vestergaard to our encampment?”   
“I did not lead General Vestergaard to this encampment.”  
My fingers clench the fabric of my clothes. My palms are beginning to sweat and the tent feels warm. I have never been good at speaking before a crowd and feel nervousness.   
“Why did you refuse our summons the first four times?” The dwarvish counselor asks.   
I flinch and send a pointed glare in the direction of my friends. To their credit, they look guilty.   
“I was not aware of the summons,” I reply. Ryland coughs into his hand and Caligo suddenly finds a paper in his lap very interesting.   
The Counselors eye each other. I can tell right away where their loyalties lie and how they have been split. Solaire meets the eyes of the human counselor and they share a look while the dwarven and elvish counselors lean towards each other and murmur under their breaths.   
It is fifty-fifty then. The Council is entirely divided by me. I try not to let that intimidate me as the questioning continues.   
They ask me everything from my past to my present. I feel like I am in a court trial although Solaire had swore up and down I was not being sentenced before the meeting began. I answer their questions as best I can but am not much help.   
They want information on the Witch Queen, but I was never in her inner circle. They want Magnus’ troop movements, but Magnus never brought his work home. They want to know how they could gain leverage in the war, but I am as lost as they are.   
In the end, the candles around us grow shorter as the wax melts. I bite the inside of my cheek hard. My head is beginning to ache. They’ve prodded at memories from my past that are still locked away by Helena’s magic. My mind is exhausted of hitting magical walls.   
Caligo must realize this because he calls for the final question. The Council is allowed one more question before the vote begins. I prepare myself for it.   
The human Councilor is the one to deliver it. His dark blue eyes meet mine and I have no idea what he sees. His gaze is analytical and I feel the intensity of it like a flame.   
“Lady Hope, of all the women in your village, why were you chosen to be Magnus’ bride? What importance did you have? What made him select you when he could have picked anyone else?”  
The question takes my breath away and I feel my hands shake. That is the million dollar question. I have asked myself that since the day I was taken and have come up short. My throat tightens and I have to remember how to talk.   
“I don’t know,” I murmur.   
“Repeat the full phrase please,” Caligo reminds me.   
I take a breath that makes my shoulders shake. Raising my chin, I meet the Council’s eyes.   
“I do not know why Magnus Vestergaard chose me as his bride, but I will regret it for the rest of my life,” I answer.   
I flatten my palms against the sides of my legs until they stop shaking. Silence ensues and no one likes my answer. Caligo, Solaire, and Ryland look uncomfortable for me, but the rest of the Council seems unsatisfied. They wanted more.   
And I guess a part of me wanted more too because my heart thuds in my chest. That question, the one I want an answer to most of all, will perhaps never be answered. I shiver with that realization and feel sick.   
Caligo recovers first and regains his Council persona. He murmurs to Ryland to take notes then clears his throat.   
“The time for questions is over. The Council will now commence voting. Every member has one vote and a closing remark. Majority rules. As this is our fifth and final vote, a tie will end with a Chamber ruling. Ready?” He examines each Council member, “We begin with Solaire Lightwing, Fairy and Mermaid Counselor.”  
Solaire draws herself to her full height and meets my eyes. I see support there, friendship, and she speaks with fervency.   
“I have met Lady Hope and know she does not pose a threat. She is trustworthy and kind, and I am more than willing to vouch on her behalf. You know my vote. I rule in her favor.”  
A part of me relaxes although I knew her answer already. Some of the stress in my shoulders leaves me.   
Caligo moves on to the human Counselor.   
The man also sits up straight. He meets my gaze head on and I am once more struck by the intensity there. When he speaks, his voice is soft but commanding.   
“Have you any idea who I am, Lady Hope?”   
I shake my head. He continues.   
“My name is Bayard Falke. My son was August Falke, a retainer for Lord Wolfson.”  
 _August Falke._ My breath hitches at the name. I may not recognize the man before me, but everyone knows the stories of the retainers.   
His son, August, assumed control after Lord Wolfson was slain. He led the retainers before they fractured and he was cut down. His son is a failed hero in our world, and my stomach twists with nervousness.   
“I lost my son to the Generals. Your husband led the charge that saw his death. I wish for nothing more than to see him suffer the same fate or wound him deeply,” he closes his eyes, “Nevertheless, I stand by my original vote. You were held captive against your will, and my son died protecting people like you. I will not have your blood on my hands. I do not want to die and see my son in the afterlife then have to explain how I left someone in need of protecting in the path of her abuser. I stand by you, Lady Hope, and rule in your favor.”  
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me. Two down...  
Caligo nods at the dwarven Counselor. Out of all the members present, he has made his position the most clear. It is no surprise when he rules against me.   
“I pity Lady Hope’s circumstance and wish things were different, but I cannot allow her to remain. She is a direct threat to our encampment and our troops. What will we do when Vestergaard stumbles on our camp while looking for her?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.   
“This is a fallaway camp and not a permanent settlement. If our location is ever discovered, we do as the name suggests. We _fall-away!_ -“ Solaire bites her lip to reel in her outburst.   
Caligo’s own lips thin and he moves on. Ryland is glaring down at his notes.   
The elvish Counselor is last and his vote is the deciding mark. Up until this point, he has been neutral, but I do not have my hopes up. Solaire said he had voted no four times already.   
Caligo calls his name and the elvish Counselor bows his head.   
“Counselor Falke lost this son in the war and I lost my entire family. The Generals took them from me and I have dedicated myself to ensuring that, that never happens to another person ever again. I swore to myself to protect those who needed protection,” He closes his eyes, “And that sometimes means looking for the greater good. I believe that Lady Hope is no threat to our Resistance and is innocent of what she stands accused of, but I must think of the bigger picture. We have women and children here in this camp whose lives collectively outweigh one. I am sorry, Lady Hope, but my vote remains the same. I rule against you.”  
I close my eyes and feel light headed. The tiny sliver of hope I had felt earlier shatters. The Counselors are dead silent and Ryland presses his hand to his face in worry.   
“I lost my brother too, Counselors,” Caligo breaks his political persona and his jaw works with rage, “He was my twin and the former Fairy Counselor. I know your loss, and I believe that we should do everything possible to ensure that no one else suffers the same way again. Who are we to pick and choose who dies? The Witch Queen does that.”  
Caligo squeezes his hand into a fist. He has more he wants to say, the dark cloud that surrounds him proves it, but he has no voice here. The Captains are just figureheads when it comes to politics.   
“Would anyone like to rescind or change their vote?” Caligo throws his papers to the side of his chair with evident distress.   
No one says anything. I squeeze my eyes shut and my heart pounds.   
“The vote ends in a tie,” Caligo’s voice sounds from far away, “That means we are headed for a Chamber Vote. Prepare your Chambers.”

———

The Chamber vote is scheduled for tomorrow. I somehow manage to make it outside the Main Tent still standing. My entire body feels cold and anxiety makes me jittery.   
Even answering questions, even with two captains and a Council member speaking on my behalf, they still split the vote. The odds are not in my favor and I shudder to think that they may never align right. To think that freedom could be snatched from me so soon after it’s been given...  
My bandaged hand begins to hurt and I stare at the way the fairy lights around the encampment glow. Someone appears next to me and I recognize the familiar scent of pine before I see him. Ryland.   
“Are you alright, Hope?” Ryland inquires. He stands to my side but folds his arms behind his back making no effort to touch me. He is intent on giving me space and a part of me relaxes at thought.   
“As alright as I can be,” I murmur.   
The truth is that I have a headache forming in my temple and my thoughts are buzzing in thousands of different directions. I need something, anything, to clear my mind of things. The last thing I want to do is spend tonight worrying about the future and my fate. Tomorrow can wait, I just want to enjoy today.   
Something on my face must give this away because Ryland’s eyes light up with recognition. He is extremely perceptive and I have to wonder if perhaps he picked it up after an entire life of servitude.   
“Do you like flowers?” He tilts his head and nods at the distance. The dark around us doesn’t give away much of what it hides, but he looks pointedly in one direction.   
I bite the inside of my cheek. Do I like flowers? I cannot remember if I do.   
“I must have,” I reply.   
I am from the Coastal Domain. The coast had its own assortment and variety of colors. If I try really hard, I can remember times where my brother and I ran through the fields playing. It feels like an entire lifetime away, but a part of me still knows it. Helena’s magic might be blocking a lot of my memories and my own name from me, but she cannot steal the happiness I felt once upon a time.   
“There is a field nearby where the children like to play. A lot of wildflowers grow around this area and we use magic lights to keep the plants there maintained. If you like flowers, I could take you?” A small bloom of color paints his cheeks and he looks away, “Or I could just point you to it and you can go on your own? Whatever you feel more comfortable doing.”  
I process that. Perhaps a field of flowers would serve as a distraction-it always did before.   
“Come with me?” I ask.   
Without even thinking twice, I extend my hand towards him. He takes it as if by instinct and our fingers interlock. It feels right, natural, to be at each other’s side, and I push away the thoughts of what this could mean. That is something to dwell on for another time.   
“Follow me,” Ryland replies.   
I feel a smile rise on my face despite myself. Perhaps I would follow him anywhere. 

———

I smell the field before I see it. Floral scents drift in the air lazily and the grass smells of a light rain. The field is separated from the rest of the camp by a small fence and little magic lights line the field suspended by an invisible force like will-o-wisps. The entire place has an air of serenity and peace, I instantly feel better.   
“This is lovely,” I remark. I reach out a finger and trace the petal on a nearby tulip. It is a soft, pretty pink.   
A flash of something brief passes through my memory like a flicker. I see pink tulips growing on the edges of a road where my brother and I are playing. He is running as fast as his legs will carry him, and I have hiked up my skirts to keep up with his long strides.   
The memory fills me with warmth however brief it may be. Helena’s spell chases it away before I can truly absorb it, but what I saw is enough to feel an odd sense of strength climb up my spine. I still have some memories although they may be locked up, and the thought of that keeps me going.   
“We found it by accident, really. Caligo and Solaire put up the wards without really navigating the lands, so they locked this place in without meaning to. In the end, it helped us. A lot of the children enjoy running around here, and the flowers are tended to by the camp as a tribute to the future,” Ryland explains.   
I let go of his hand, surprised to still be holding it, and miss its warmth as soon as it’s gone. To occupy myself, I run my fingers through the rest of the flowers.   
There are more species than I can name growing here. Multiple colors and scents surround me and a strange relaxation spreads through me. This field speaks of promise. In a world where the sun is blocked out, the fact that so many plants continue to grow in defiance is a refreshing reminder that all wars end.   
“Which one is your favorite?” I wonder.   
I have no idea which one I like most. The tulips are lovely, the sunflowers are beautiful, and the peonies seem to dance in the breeze. There are so many options to choose from that I have no idea how to tell which I like most, but I am curious to hear his answer.   
Ryland laughs, a quiet and soft sound, and taps a flower growing up from the ground. It’s the smallest one in the field, the stem is a little crooked and drooping, but it’s still climbing. It refuses to give up even in the face of all the other flowers. It’s an anemone, it’s petals a faded white, and it bends with the weight of its own splendor.   
“I do not have a particularly favorite flower, but I like this one. When I first found this field, I thought it would die because it was surrounded by all of these other flowers and the magic lights could not reach it. See? It is dry in some areas,” he runs a finger delicately along the stem. The petals are dry and curling at the ends, some have fallen off and litter the floor, but the flower itself is still healthy. “I half expect it to be gone every time I come by here, but it is still here. It grows and grows and grows. The sun is gone, water is scarce, the other flowers steal nutrients from it, but it is still going strong. I think that is inspirational.”  
A sound leaves my throat. “You would.”  
Inspirational and hopeful to the end, I shake my head. Sometimes I forget the man at my side is a powerful orator who knows how to instill passion in even the most lost of cases. Like me, for example.  
I walk around the path some more and count the number of flower varieties as I pass. Ryland lays down on the ground next to his little forsaken flower and watches it.   
There are multiple different species around me. I list off the names in my head to give myself something to do. It is a nice mental exercise, a reminder that I still have access to some things even if I hit a magical wall or two, and it helps me feel more at ease.   
Eventually, I reach the end of the garden path. White roses are blooming here, proud and arrogant in the garden, and my fingers curl into fists.   
General Richter planted a garden of white roses in Magnus’ palace for the Queen. In one particular long summer, she came to stay with us for months. I hated playing the lady of the palace for her, having to watch every breath I took, and I hated having to stand outside watching the roses grow while she talked with the other Generals.   
A shudder passes through me and I reach out a hand. I want to tear the roses out, pluck them and erase them from this garden, but the thorns cut my palm. I hiss in pain and the sound brings Ryland to his feet.   
He comes over to me and taps a floating light down to illuminate my palm. It is not a bad cut, artificial in nature, and he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. He ties it around my palm expertly and folds my fingers over it.   
“Careful with the thorns. Are you alright?” He peers intensely at me and I see concern and worry shining there.   
I make a face. “I never liked white roses.”  
I leave it at that, I do not want to get into more gruesome details, and Ryland seems to want to press but decides against it at the last moment. He instead examines the white roses as they sway mockingly in the breeze. They seem entirely smug with themselves as they move from side to side.   
“Do you want me to cut them?” He lowers his voice, something reassuring and soft.   
He would do it, I realize, he would cut them down if it meant bringing me clarity of mind. This garden is a symbol of so many things for him, yet he would pluck the roses out of it if it meant helping me.   
The thought of the gesture is a sobering thing. I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. Suddenly, my aversion to the roses seems ridiculous.   
“No, let them grow,” I move away, “It is not their fault.”  
I am done with exploring the garden for the day. Instead, I sit on the grass and lay back down so that my head is facing the black sky. There are no stars in sight, she has taken that from us too, but it is still relaxing to look up at the sky and realize how small you are. Sometimes one needs a reminder of their place in an infinite universe.   
Laying where I am, Ryland’s favorite flower is inches from my cheek. I eye it wearily.   
“It will die soon, Ry,” I comment, “It is wilting already.”  
Ryland lays on the grass next to me except his body is is facing the other way. Only his head is next to mine and he has to slightly turn to see me. The flower is between us proving some space.   
“It will not. It is wilting but that does not always mean death. I think it will grow and be one of the best flowers here. The stem is bent but it still struggles to stand up straight, the petals are falling off but the flower still looks lovely, and the leaves are brown but some green color still clings to it. It is trying and sometimes that means more than succeeding.”  
I snort quietly to myself. “How poetic.”  
I reach out a hand just as he does. Our fingers brush past each other as we both try to touch the flower. There is a spark there, a feeling of something nice, and I hesitate.   
It takes us both by surprise. Ryland stops and stares and I do the same. For some reason, I almost forget to withdraw my hand. The feeling is pleasant, something affectionate, and I focus on the sense of peace it brings over me. I have never been one to feel sexual attraction, matters of it have never interested me, but this is different. This feels more emotional than it does physical. I think a part of me enjoys holding his hand simply because of the way it makes me feel warm inside.   
The realization is a stunning one and I withdraw my hand fast. Ryland does the same and moves his head so that he can’t see me. An apology spills from his lips and he inches just slightly away from me to give me more space.   
I rest my hand against the grass and look away. A part of me feels embarrassment while another part of me feels something pleasant. Nevertheless, I push the feeling down.   
Ryland clears his throat and seems like he is struggling to come up with a conversation change. He finds it after some thought and nods at the field around us.   
“What about you? What is your favorite flower?” There is still a creeping edge of shyness underneath his voice. It is almost cute and I feel some warmth on my own face.   
I have no idea what flower I like the most, they are all so lovely, so I let my eyes skim for one that stands out.   
I find it after a brief lull in conversation. A tiny blue thing that grew on accident among this garden. It is a tiny wildflower where all the others are majestic species, yet it has more spirit than all of them. It climbs up tall and proud.   
“That one,” I nod at it. As I say it, I reckon it’s true. It is as inspiring as Ryland’s little wilting thing.   
I do not realize it until much after, but the flower is the exact same color as his eyes. 

———

The next morning finds me pacing. I have probably worn a track on Solaire’s kitchen floor as she flits about making breakfast.   
“The Chambers are meeting in an hour for their vote. Each Counsel member has the ability to present their case and talk. I will tell my Chamber about you and make sure that they know you can be trusted,” Solaire states.   
I bite the inside of my cheek in nervousness. Anxiety has settled into a pit in my stomach and a part of me wants to curl up in a ball and hide away from society. Still, I put on a brave facade that does not echo the racing in my chest.   
“What if they vote no?” I meant to ask it to myself in thought, but it spills past my lips anyway.   
Solaire tenses from her place at the sink.   
“They won’t,” she urges, “They swore to protect those that needed it.”  
“But they’ve never had to protect the ex-wife of a General,” I remark darkly.   
It still feels terrible to call myself that, but there is no running from the truth. I was Magnus’ wife, unwilling and without consent, but still a fixture of him. It is no surprise that the Council is weary of me when they have learned to associate me as ‘Lady Vestergaard’ for so long.   
“Ryland used to tell your story to the troops. They know your past, they know your struggles, and I have faith. Have some hope, Hope,” Solaire pats my hand with one of her own.   
Despite myself, I find my mind drifting towards the worst of scenarios. If they vote no, I can’t stay here. Where will I go then? Where can I go where Magnus won’t find me?   
My teeth grind together and I wrap an arm around myself suddenly chilly.   
“If it-if they vote no, I can take it,” I murmur, “I can go back to the Coastal Domain and see what is left of my village. Maybe there is something left.”  
Solaire’s lips press thin. “The Coastal Domain is occupied and an invasion is looming near it. It would not be safe for you and I could not accompany you there and keep you safe.”  
“I never counted on you following me,” I admit, “I would do it alone. I could never take you from where you are safe.”  
Solaire seems not to like that answer. She narrows her eyes and moves closer to me.   
“Why do you think you would be alone then? Why was that your first instinct?”  
I flinch away from her and something deep within me aches. “Haven’t I always been alone? I can take care of myself.”  
The words sound flat to my own ears. My bandaged hand, the grim reminder of how well I had taken care of myself in the past, aches as if by protest. The truth is, being alone is more terrifying than being in danger.   
“You are no longer alone, Hope, you have all of us now,” Solaire clasps my hand in hers, “Council or no Council, you have us.”

———

The Main Tent is lit for the final meeting. The Chambers have long since met and the Council members are gathered inside with a slip of paper telling of their votes.   
Solaire goes in first to take her seat at the Council, Caligo goes in next to commence the meeting, but Ryland and I hang behind.   
I want to end this soon, get it over with once and for all, yet I cannot bring myself to go in. My stomach is twisting itself into knots and my hands are shaking.   
Ryland reaches out to me and takes my hand in his. “Are you nervous?”   
I want to lie and say that I am not, want to make myself seem braver than I am so that I will fit in with him-a Captain of the Resistance, but the words won’t come. Instead, my throat tightens and I nod.   
Blinking away some of the burning in my eyes, I turn back to him. “Terrified.”  
“Do not be. You have two Captains and two Council members on your side. Everything will be fine. I promise.”   
To my surprise, he raises my hand up. Without even meaning to or thinking about it, he kisses my fingers lightly.   
It is an entirely chaste and romantic gesture that takes us both by surprise. Startled, he backs away and red flushes across his face. He seems more shocked with himself than I am.   
“Sorry, I should go inside,” he spins around. I have no time to say anything before he is plunging into the Main Tent.   
I stare in his wake and trace the areas where his warmth lingers on my skin. A familiar sense of something pleasant envelopes me and my heart picks up its rhythm just a touch.   
He **feels like home** , I realize. The thought is so powerful that it surprises me. I am not quite sure where I belong yet, my home is locked away by magic and trauma, but he makes me believe I could carve a new one for myself.   
I smile to myself softly, draw strength in what remains of his presence, and follow him into the Main Tent. 

———

The Council is gathered but not sitting. It seems like Chamber votes are much more uncomfortable. No one volunteers to go first when Caligo calls for the votes.   
Finally, he calls on Solaire. She is holding her paper in one hand and reading from it.   
“My Chamber gathered for the vote on whether or not to allow Lady Hope to stay.” She prattles off a list of dates and names then takes a deep breath. “After much debate and talk, a vote was held at sundown. The vote’s results are as follows. In the issue of whether or not to allow Lady Hope to stay, the Fairy and Mermaid Chamber voted 8 to 2 in her favor. My vote remains, Lady Hope should stay.”  
A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escapes me. Ryland relaxes in his seat and Caligo looks less anxious as he presides over the meeting. He takes the paper from Solaire then puts it aside and she resumes her seat. The vote continues.   
The Dwarven Councilor comes next. Standing next to Solaire, he volunteers to go.   
He prefaces his vote just like Solaire, commenting on the members who voted and the time the vote was held, before clearing his throat.   
“My Chamber is composed of 6 members who lost family during the last excursion of which Lady Hope was rescued on. These family members have swayed the tide of the vote. The vote ended 7 to 3 against Lady Hope remaining. My vote stays.”  
I squeeze my eyes shut, but I am not entirely surprised. Caligo had warned me that the Dwarven Councilor was particularly against my stay. Most of the men Ryland had lost when he had been captured had been Dwarves, and some of them resented me for surviving when their family did not.   
I shift in my seat awkwardly as the vote continues.   
The next one is the Elven Councilor. He prefaces his vote the same way then continues.   
“My Chamber was evenly split between the vote. Five in favor and five against. Therefore, I break the tie by voting against. My vote remains.”  
A cold feeling washes over me. Another vote against me. That’s two against one.   
Solaire winces and Caligo’s hands shake as he accepts the paper from the Council member.   
I meet Ryland’s eyes across the room. He is still taking notes, but he pauses when he sees me looking.   
‘ _Do not lose hope. A tie is a dismissal.’_  
He is right, I remember. In the event of a tie, the issue is dismissed and I get to stay. If this vote ends with a draw, there are no more votes. I would be in the clear.   
Some of the tension escapes me. The final vote steps toward.   
Bayard, the human Council member, unrolls his paper and recites the names of his Chamber. I relax just slightly in my seat. Bayard voted with me last time, Solaire is sure he will vote for me again.   
“After deliberation, my Chamber vote ended with a 6 to 4 decision,” he states.   
A pregnant pause fills the air. The Council sits up straighter and both Captains tense. The anticipation is too much and I sit on my hands to keep from fidgeting.   
Bayard has his head down as he reads from the paper, but he raises it up before he speaks-  
Immediately, the wind is knocked out of me. I know his answer before he even says it.   
“I wish to change my earlier vote. My Chamber voted 6 to 4 against. I am sorry, Lady Hope, they would not listen to reason.”  
I feel like I am going to pass out suddenly. The quill Ryland was holding drops from his hand and Caligo turns pale.   
The vote isn’t a tie. The vote is against me.   
Solaire starts arguing with Bayard, the other two Council members look grim, and the atmosphere turns frigid.   
Caligo has to slap the surface of a desk several times to reel in the commotion. He examines Bayard’s paper over and over again as if that would magically change the decision.   
Finally, he steps up to the front. His eyes are remorseful, and so, so sorry, as he clears his throat.   
“The Chamber vote has ended 3 to 1. The Council has ruled that Lady Hope cannot remain.”  
Caligo moves to slam his fist on the desk and close the meeting-  
But Ryland jumps to his feet. In a move of desperation, he shoves Caligo lightly out of the way.   
“I, Captain Goldheart, move to veto the decision!”  
His words echo in the still air and silence descends across everyone-  
Until clatter occurs all at once.   
Caligo hisses at Ryland and tugs his hand towards him, Bayard and Solaire look relieved, the Elven Councilor looks stunned, and the Dwarven Councilor angrily explains that Ryland is not a King and cannot veto a Chamber decision.   
I sway in place and manage to stay upright as Solaire crosses to me. She wraps her arms around my frame but her words are directed at Caligo.   
“Another Captain must echo the motion or it is null and void,” she reminds him.   
Caligo looks stunned suddenly. He swallows several times and eyes each of us in turn. When he arrives to me, his face softens and he clears his throat.   
“I, Captain Hawkeye, second the motion passed by Captain Goldheart. The Council’s decision is vetoed.”  
And with that final phrase, the meeting is over. 

———

The Council members stalk off into the night. Bayard looks relieved as he presses a fatherly hand on my back and bids me goodnight, Solaire says something about taking a walk to clear her head, and Caligo tells me to take it easy before heading for his tent.   
Ryland stays with me alone and we stand in front of the Main Tent unsure of what to do. His hands are in his pockets and his face is still flushed from the strain of being yelled at by the Council.   
I draw in a breath.   
Ryland vetoed the Council. While Captains had that authority, they had never used it before. The argument that had followed was just a prelude to the conflict brewing now. The Council was less than pleased with both Captains, and, with an invasion looming so near, that could have disastrous consequences.   
“What happens now?” I ask.  
Ryland looks away from me and towards the empty night sky. He takes his sweet time answering. Finally, once his thoughts are gathered, he sighs.   
“Your vote is over. This was the last chance they had and they failed. That means that you get to stay, but it also brings a new list of problems.”  
I wince. “They are not happy with you or Caligo. The Coastal Domain is in threat of invasion, isn’t it? Caligo mentioned it yesterday...What will happen?”  
“They will have to put aside their anger for the invasion. The Resistance needs to defend its own from the Witch Queen and I would hope they would put aside their differences long enough to protect more people.”  
By the tone of his voice and the way his eyes seem to darken, I can tell he is unsure. A part of him is worried for the future. The Resistance will have to take up arms again very soon, and, if there is fighting among the leadership, then the consequences could be dire. I have ruined something else.   
My breath leaves my lips shakily and I rub at my arms nervously. I get to stay, but so what? The Council is mad at the Captains, so leading the Resistance will become very difficult. I have ruined their leadership structure and have sewn discord among their ranks.   
My head begins to ache and I bite my lip hard.   
My freedom is there, just out of reach, and I long to grab it. After enduring Magnus for so long, I yearn for a time where I can escape and be free-  
But at what cost? The Council was right. What is one life to hundreds? Magnus specifically asked for me and is looking for me. He may be after the Resistance with or without me interfering, but I am still a motivator in his actions. He chases Ryland for the Witch Queen already, but he chases me for his own pride. If I remain at the Resistance, I am only casting a wider target.   
Helena’s magic is still on me, it blocks my memories and experiences from view, so what would happen if she came here? If she walked around the area, her magic would call to her. She would know how to find us easily, and she would shatter the wards with a lazy flick of her wrist. I have painted a target on the entire Resistance whether I had wanted to or not.   
I look up at Ryland’s face. The flickering fairy lights cast haunting shadows across his features. In the dark, he looks even more exhausted than ever before. I can almost see some gray hairs mixed in the dark strands.   
I wince.   
I have brought disastrous consequences for everyone. Ryland has lost the Council’s support, the Council is in fractions, and the entire Resistance is in danger. I brought all of this on them. Like a harbinger of destruction, I ruined everything.   
Ryland filled my head with talks of hope and freedom, but I am very slowly starting to come out of my daze. His words were sweet, but the truth is much more bitter.   
Escape was never within reach, and I should have never let myself hope for it. Hope is a very powerful weapon that sometimes has a double edged blade.   
“ **I wish I had never met you** , Ryland Goldheart. My life would have been so much more simple if I had just remained in my golden cage.”  
The words leave my lips in a quiet whisper. I expect Ryland to flinch or be hurt, but, instead, he meets my gaze evenly. His blue eyes capture my attention completely and he opens his mouth.   
“But you did meet me,” he reminds me. His gaze is intense.   
A pained smile spreads across my face.   
“I did, and I will be thankful for that for the rest of my life.”

———

The night is usually quiet and dark, the Resistance’s curfew remains in effect, yet something draws me to awaken.   
Solaire shifts in her sleep as I leave her tent. The cold night air pricks my skin as I leave the safety and warmth of my makeshift bed. A light is burning somewhere in the distance and it disrupts the darkness of the camp.   
I hesitate in front of Ryland’s tent but decide not to wake him. He sleeps so little already, and I want him to rest when he can. I don’t wake him up to help me.   
Instead, I follow the light source on my own. The encampment has guards in place, so I doubt it is anything sinister as no alarms have been sounded. I also call upon my magic and let it drift towards the wards around us. My magic hits the powerful spells protecting the camp and it evaporates proving that our protections are still up. Whatever light is coming in the distance is coming from within then.   
The light source peeks out from behind trees in the forest. I wince every time I snap a twig or brush a loud leaf, yet I make it to the edge of the light. Hidden in the shadows, I peer in.   
There are two forms gathered with their heads bowed. A candle flickers between them and they scribble things furiously on a piece of parchment. I recognize them as soon as I spot them.   
It is the Elvish and Dwarven Council members. The ones that had been so opposed to me staying, and the ones that had been the most angry at Ryland and Caligo for the veto.   
I muffle my breath of surprise and lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. They are whispering to themselves, and I have to strain myself to hear.   
“...putting the entire Resistance in jeopardy. They have lost track of their mission...”  
“...Should have never appointed boys to be in charge of so many people...”  
“...No longer acting like responsible Captains...”  
My hand presses to my mouth to muffle my surprise. They are discussing Ryland and Caligo. The veto today really did fracture the Council.   
I strain to hear better and take a hesitant step forward. The candle light flickers and I have to be careful not to be seen by its light. Instead, I flatten myself against the tree and lean forward as much as possible while still remaining concealed by shadows.   
The Elvish Councilor is burning whatever paper they were plotting on. The smoke curls from it and ashy bits rain at his feet. Whatever he was writing down, he does not want it ever discovered.   
“So we are in agreement then? We can round up votes,” he looks to his companion.   
The Dwarven Councilor paces the length of the clearing. He seems a little off-put now, remorseful, but he nods. One hand brushes sweat from his brow.   
“I do not like this, but we must look out for the good of the entire Resistance. One life is not above hundreds...” He kicks a rock, “My sympathy is with her, but there are a million more women with her same story. So many girls have been taken by the Witch Queen’s men, she won’t be the first or the last. We cannot place her over the safety of the entire Resistance. Captain Hawkeye and Captain Goldheart have lost track of their promise.”  
Silence descends. I digest this information and shudder. They are speaking about me and the Captains. Whatever they are plotting, shrouded in secrecy and burning into ashes, cannot be good.   
The Elvish Councilor raises his candle and the last of the paper turns to dust. He wipes his fingers on his robes and presses his lips thin. Even from my spot, I can see the regret in his eyes.   
“They have lost track of their promise, and we cannot allow them to ruin this entire Resistance for one girl. We are in agreement then?” He looks pointedly at his companion.   
The Dwarvish Councilor exhales.  
“We are,” he shifts uneasily, “We must remove Captain Goldheart and Captain Hawkeye.”

——— 

A sound of shock leaves my mouth and I can’t stop it in time. Both Councilors freeze and one of them quickly douses the candle. Plunged in darkness, I panic.   
I have to get away before they spot me, but I have no idea where. I falter and struggle but think of nothing. The dark makes it impossible for me to choose where to go, and my spot has been compromised.   
I panic for half a moment-  
And then a strong pair of arms is pulling me back. A hand presses to my mouth and I hear my name whispered in a soft voice.   
Caligo.   
I exhale in surprise and he guides us away from the woods. He moves expertly and manages to make our escape secretive. A true spy, he is a silent shadow moving in the night.   
We make it far from the meeting place and find ourselves at the white oak tree Ryland likes to sit by. My heart is racing and my thoughts are going faster.   
A mutiny. The Council is planning to remove the Captains.   
“Caligo-“ I breathe out his name and press my hands to my knees to catch my breath. My entire body feels cold with shock. “Did you-?”  
I don’t continue my question. Caligo leans against the white oak tree and his face is rigid with anger. Not at me, I realize, but at the Council.   
“It is not polite to spy on people, you know,” he comments drily.   
I give him a look. “Says the spy.”  
“Correction, says the spy that went to spy on that secret meeting as well. You are lucky I found you before they did. Lesson number one about spying, no matter what you hear, remain silent. Lesson number two, always have an escape plan in case things go wrong. You failed tonight.”  
He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. I stomp my feet on the ground to get some warmth back in them. My entire body feels like it was doused in ice water.   
“They are going to remove you and Ryland,” I shiver again.   
“They are going to _try_ to remove me and Ryland, but they will not be able to. We are the heads of their fighters. No one else can rule the spies like I can, and no one else can rally the troops like Ryland can. The Council can scheme all they want, they will not be rid of us,” Caligo shakes his head with obvious irritation.   
It affected him, I realize, to hear that tonight. No matter how he tries to remain cool and impassive, a part of him is worried. Even if he and Ryland will not be removed, it is still dangerous to have people whispering about their removal. If the Captains rally up any votes against them, it kills the Resistance’s morale and puts their leadership in danger.   
“What are you going to do? Should we wake up Ryland?” I ask.   
Caligo shakes his head. “This was just scheming tonight, just some frustrated politicians blowing steam. I am sure it will blow over by morning. It is two against four. Bayard and Solaire will never allow it to happen.”  
“What about the Chambers?”   
The Chambers voted against me overwhelmingly. Bayard had been overruled by his own people. What does that mean? Are they as angry as the Council over tonight’s veto?   
Caligo must reach that same conclusion because a flicker of thought passes through his face before he looks away.   
“I hate politics,” he hisses under his breath, “My brother was the Councilor, I could never stand government.”   
He rolls his head from side to side in irritation. I clench my fingers into fists and look away.   
I brought this on them. I always screw things up.   
“Why did you side with Ryland tonight? You could have canceled his veto and none of this would have happened.”  
“And then what? You get sent back to Magnus with a bow by the Council? The Resistance talks about removing Ryland because he is so emotional? And I have to live with your death on my consciousness for the rest of my life? Ryland and Solaire would never forgive me, and I would never forgive myself either,” Caligo shifts his posture.   
I lean against the white oak tree. A spot that usually brings me peace now makes me feel uneasy. I bite my lip.   
“They were talking about getting votes. Will this go to the Chambers? What’s the procedure for removing two Captains?”  
Caligo snorts and there is no humor. “There has never been a removal before. Lord Reiner ruled by majority and Sir Falke was appointed after his death. Their leadership was unquestioned and people supported them. When the retainers died, I was appointed by my spy network as Captain, and Ryland was voted in by the Resistance for his past with Lord Reiner and his speeches. We never had problems-“  
“Until me,” I close my eyes.   
“Do not say that,” Caligo’s voice is a low warning, “We will never see you as a burden. You were in need of help and we helped you. You are not a problem.”  
“The Council seems to think so.”  
“The Council is afraid and paranoid. We have been fighting this war for so long that they have lost sight of _their_ promise. Do not let that get to you.”  
He moves closer to me and peers into my eyes. His are a vivid violet and they burn with passion. My breath hitches.   
“I am glad he saved you, Hope. It is not selfish to want to survive. I will forever thank the gods for letting us meet you in time,” Caligo’s voice drops to a low murmur. His eyes move from my own to my mouth.   
We are too close and I feel suddenly very uncomfortable. There is a softness in his eyes that is not welcome. I move away just as his hand reaches for me.   
Once out of reach, the spell is broken. Whatever moment had transpired shatters like glass and Caligo sobers up.   
His eyes widen and he steps back suddenly as if surprised by his own actions. I am still tense and uncomfortable. My heart pounds in my chest.   
“Caligo-I-“ I drift off and take some more steps back. _I like you but not like that._  
I don’t say it aloud, speaking it out would make the atmosphere between us more awkward, but I think he understands that anyway.   
Caligo looks away and there is a mixture of embarrassment and hurt in his face for a brief second before a mask of calm falls across it.   
“I apologize, Hope, I forgot,” he moves past me and back to the camp, “Ryland is a lucky man.”

———

The Council is called for an emergency meeting in the morning. At first, I worry it is about last night, but Solaire assures me it is over the Coastal Domain. An invasion looms near, the Resistance wants to free some settlements, and preparations are underway.   
Caligo is called to preside over the meeting, or at least Bayard invites him while the other Councilors pointedly forget, but Ryland stays with me.   
We sit in Solaire’s kitchen eating breakfast while staring at the light coming from the Main Tent. Ryland chases around some eggs with his fork while I give the illusion of eating.   
Caligo told him about the secret meeting last night, although Ryland took it well. If he is as worried as me about the impending mutiny, he does not show it. Instead, he smiles softly at me.   
“Do you feel better today? You looked pale last night,” he comments.   
I do not feel better, I spent a terrible night dwelling over the Council and the Captains, but I am willing to lie for his sake. I nod and force myself to take another bite. My stomach twists with it, my appetite still nonexistent, but I know I can’t just live off of air.   
I know I should probably evade the topic of the Council like the plague for Ryland’s sake if not my own, it can’t be healthy to obsess over it, but I can’t bring myself to let it go. Guilt casts a terrible shadow over me, and I feel extreme nervousness.   
“Are you afraid about what the Council will do?” I lower my voice as if speaking it out loud will bring it into existence.   
Ryland sighs and sets his fork down. He looks exhausted again, the dark circles under his eyes refuse to leave, and he brushes a stray lock of his hair back.   
“The Coastal Domain will be invaded in a few days. I worry more for that battle than the one brewing in the Council. Whether they like me or not, they need me for the invasion. I am going to focus on what I can control now and worry over the rest later,” Ryland shrugs.   
He puts up a brave front but I can see the stress on his shoulders. His brave mask is for me. He wants me to relax and not worry.   
I decide to take his initiative. He wants to talk about the Coastal Domain, fine.   
“When are you leaving for the invasion?”   
A part of me shudders at that sentence. Invasion means battle and battle means death. There is a very real chance of Ryland dying once he leaves. My fear makes my entire body rigid.   
“Two days. My men are getting ready and Caligo is getting last minute information from his spy network. If everything goes well, we will free some more towns in the Coastal Domain before the Witch Queen realizes what is happening.”  
“And if things do not go well?”   
My voice is quiet. I am almost afraid of the answer.   
Ryland looks away. “It will go well. Have hope.”

———

It is nightfall by the time the Council meeting adjourns. Solaire immediately rushes towards me and Ryland and her face is pale with worry. She lowers her voice so that only we will hear her news.   
“Caligo’s spy network sent a message in the middle of the meeting. Magnus is deploying his troops towards the Coastal Domain. He is leaving the area very soon to meet our forces at the invasion,” she links her arms with ours.   
I feel the color drain from my face, but Ryland shrugs and looks away. A muscle on his jaw juts out just slightly.   
“We expected as much. Mobilizing as many troops as we did was bound to draw attention. Let us just hope we arrive before they do,” Ryland comments.   
I wish I had his courage. He is about to face certain death, yet he is as hopeful as ever of the outcome.   
Solaire bows her head. “The Council wants everything done soon. Caligo is departing tomorrow morning and you should follow in two days. They voted to send twice the troops.”  
“And the other vote?” I ask. Solaire knows of the mutiny too.   
She glances at me and her lips thin. “The cowards are holding off on that one until after the invasion. Bayard and I have made it clear that we will vote them down. Our Chambers are on our side too.”   
She glances at Ryland and some hidden message passes between them. She has more she wants to say but not in my presence.   
I take the hint even if it is frustrating to be excluded. Bidding Ryland a goodnight, I move away.   
I make my steps slow and deliberate so that I am still within earshot when Solaire breaks the news to Ryland.   
“The Council gave an ultimatum. As long as Hope stays here, the vote will go through. Things are not looking good for you and Caligo.”

———

Caligo departs early the next morning with a procession of his spies. He claps Ryland’s shoulder and tells him they will see each other on the battlefield, hugs Solaire, and awkwardly hugs me while careful not to linger too long. Since the secret meeting, our encounters have been a little uncomfortable.   
Once he and his spies are gone, the camp is a flurry of activity. Ryland disappears to gather with his men and Solaire prepares her own things. She is accompanying Ryland for the invasion as the troops will need supplies.   
I am to remain here, in this camp that does not want me to begin with, and await their return. This invasion could take days or weeks depending on how many troops they have to fight. The prospect of being alone is not a welcoming one.   
Solaire neatly packs away food into baskets and I help her. Finally, after a quiet morning, she breathes out a sigh.   
“We will come back, Hope, trust us,” she soothes.   
I bite my cheek until I taste something metallic.   
“I know you will,” I lie, “I just worry about what happens after. The Council will vote Ryland and Caligo out as soon as the invasion is over. They do not want me to stay.”  
Solaire waves a wooden spoon at me. “The Council will do no such thing. Ryland and Caligo are the Captains whether they like it or not. No one else can lead our troops like they can. They can scheme and gather as many votes as they would like, it will not matter.”  
I wish I could share her confidence. I lean against the kitchen counter and massage the outside of my stinging cheek.   
“If I were to leave the camp-“  
“You would die and the Council would find another reason to be upset,” Solaire narrows her eyes, “Promise me something.”   
“What?” Apprehension twists my stomach.   
“Promise me you will not do anything reckless out of fear. No running, no fighting, no self loathing.”  
She meets my gaze and the intensity of her eyes is almost impossible to look away from. I curl my fingers into fists and swallow the painful lump in my throat.   
“I promise,” I say softly.   
She turns away and I am glad she cannot hear the thousands of thoughts churning in my head. 

———

The curfew is in place that night despite the fact that Magnus is no longer occupied with finding me or the Resistance. I slip away unnoticed.   
Ryland’s tent is lit by a low candle and I knock awkwardly on the flap. Immediately, he opens it and looks at me in surprise.   
Despite the fact that he is leaving tomorrow, he is not asleep. A map is spread on the floor and little figurines are positioned like his troops. He has been planning strategy for tomorrow’s invasion.   
“I could not sleep,” I admit, “I figured you would be awake.”  
Ryland lets me in and moves the map from his floor gently. His tent is as small as Solaire’s and we have to sit with our legs crossed to fit properly. His bed takes up one space to the side, a sleeping bag that looks untouched despite the late hour, and a chest is propped against it with his things.   
“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe it will help?” He offers me his hand.   
I take it and am again surprised by how well our hands fit together. He intertwines our fingers.  
“What is on your mind?” He inquires.   
The invasion. The Council. The mutiny. Magnus. My fate. My future.   
The list is endless, but I do not want to overwhelm him the night before he leaves for a battle. Instead, I make it seem light.   
“Nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You are leaving tomorrow?”   
Ryland runs a hand through his hair. Another strand falls across his forehead and he gives up trying to fix it. Instead, he tips his head back and counts the number of creases in his tent ceiling.   
“I have done this a thousand times before. I used to accompany my Lord in his battles. Back then, I could never imagine fighting or war, now it comes second nature. The person I used to be then would never believe I would become what I am now.”  
I understand that well. The girl from my past, whatever her name was, would not recognize me either. Yesterday I saw my reflection in a glass of water and could hardly believe that the skeleton with darkness in her eyes was me. I know what it is like to be someone you no longer recognize.   
“Are you afraid?” I wonder suddenly. He has to be, right? All his talks of hope cannot chase away the fear he must feel.   
Ryland thinks on that for a second, turning my words over in his head, but then he shakes his head. His eyes meet mine and there is a spark there, something fervent.   
“No, I am not,” he remarks, “I have people I want to protect and that means more to me than fear.”  
He is staring at me intensely as he says it, something bright, and I have to remember to breathe. Am I counted in those people then? Am I someone he wants to protect? The thought makes my heart race.   
Nevertheless, I don’t voice it. Instead, I glance at the fading candlelight. The last of the wax is melting and morning is approaching fast. He will have to leave soon. I should let him sleep, but I do not want to leave just yet.   
He must see it in my expression because he shifts in place. A blush rises across his face and he bites his lip.   
“Doyouwanttostayhere?” The question leaves his lips in a tangled breath. I have to ask him to repeat it slowly. When he does so, he closes his eyes in shyness. “Do you want to stay here? Just for sleep, I mean. I promise I will not do anything improper.”  
He holds his hands up before him to highlight his point. There is a slight tremor in his palms, a staple of his embarrassment and nervousness, and I bite my cheek.   
There are thousands of propriety customs that we would be breaking by sharing the same tent, but it would help me. I would feel better if I could spend these last few hours with him before he marches off to possible death.   
“I would,” I agree.   
Ryland moves to allow space for me to rest. His bed is hardly big enough for the both of us but he moves his arms so that he is not touching me. A true gentleman until the end.   
The candle is blown out and the smoke curls up. I ease myself on my side and watch as he closes his eyes.  
It is awkward and intimate to share a bed with someone, sleeping next to someone symbolizes complete trust, yet I do not find it as uncomfortable as I thought I would. Where sleep was always out of reach before, the peace that comes from being with Ryland makes me drowsy easily.   
He shifts so that he is also facing me and stares intently at me for a brief second. His gaze burns even in pitch darkness.   
“Goodnight, Hope, I will come back to you,” he promises. His voice is so quiet I doubt I was even meant to hear it.   
Nevertheless, I did, and the promise follows me into slumber. 

———

The soldiers depart the next morning. Ryland wears his armor, scuffed from battle and scratched from warfare, but still regal and strong. I help him fasten what he cannot reach and hold his hands before he leaves.   
“Stay safe,” I murmur.   
He closes his eyes and squeezes my hands back. “Always.”  
I have sent Magnus away for battle thousands of times, but this one is different. With Ryland, I will not be sitting around praying for him to die in war so that I will never see him again. With Ryland, I want him to survive and live to see thousands of more days.   
We part reluctantly, I have to force myself to let go of his hand, and Solaire comes at my side. She is donning the Witch Queen’s blues to help infiltrate her army. She hugs me tightly before ordering me to stay safe.   
There is a procession headed for the wards. Solaire takes the front and begins waving her hands. I memorize the lines she sketches with her magic, the spells she chants under her breath, and watch as the wards open just wide enough for the troops to leave.   
As soon as everyone is out, she closes it back behind her. The wards shimmer with light as they reseal themselves and she hurries to catch up the troops. Ryland hangs back and glances in the encampment’s direction, but his eyes are unfocused and I know the magic makes our location invisible.   
Finally, he turns around and walks away with his troops.   
I am left all alone. 

———

The garden is uninhabited when I arrive there. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and think hard about what I am about to do. It is perhaps one of the stupidest things I will ever do, but it is necessary.   
Solaire said it herself, the Council will continue to push for a vote as long as I am here. My presence threatens the stability of the Resistance. I must make a choice.   
I sit on the dirt for a long while and scan the flowers. I draw strength from them, will myself to press forward, and take deep breaths until I feel lightheaded.   
Finally, I feel relaxed enough to continue. I stand to my feet and dust my clothing off.   
I slipped a note in Solaire’s supplies before she took off. They will trek half a day before stopping to refresh. When she opens the parcels, she will spot my note and all hell will break loose.   
Still, by that time, it will be too late for her to do much. My plan will be in motion.   
I take a deep breath again just to stop the shaking in my hands. I have to do this.   
My hands raise above me just like I saw Solaire do. I sketch the lines of magic into the air and feel the wards around the garden begin to peel away. Solaire and Caligo put them up so they should begin to feel them opening soon, but, hopefully, they will just believe it is their reinforcements leaving the camp.   
I force my magic to take down the wards. My head burns like fire as the magic comes down. A spell this powerful is hard to do. It has been so long since I did something similar.   
It takes me a few moments, but finally a hole in the wards appears. It is big enough for me to fit in through. I steel myself to take that first step.   
Right before I leave, I turn back around. The camp looks quiet, awaiting its victory, and I know I am doing the right thing.   
Solaire told me not to do something reckless out of fear, but this is not fear. After all, Ryland said it himself. The desire to protect those you care about is much stronger than fear.   
Right as I am closing the wards back behind me, I catch a glimpse of Ryland’s favorite flower. Some of my strength vanishes once I spot it brown against the grass. The last of its petals have fallen and the poor thing is half an inch from the ground. It is a breeze away from dying.   
It seems Ryland was wrong this entire time. The little flower did wilt after all.

———

The Coastal Domain is where I am from, my village is still there somewhere awaiting me. Ryland’s forces and Magnus’ forces are headed there, but I have the advantage. I am one person who can travel and stop as she pleases while they have an entire rank and file they have to follow. I might be able to reach safety before they do.   
Caligo’s spies said Magnus would be leaving shortly after Ryland. He is still in the area just not too close to the encampment. I have to be careful of where I travel lest I stumble into him.   
I wish I had paid more attention the first time, when I was escaping with Ryland, because the woods around are foreign. I have nothing but my absent memory as a navigation system.   
The area around me is littered with magic. Helena has enchanted these woods with thousands of wards to keep an eye out. I try to be careful when walking lest I accidentally activate one of her traps.   
Eventually, I make it back to Magnus’ lands. The barrier that once blocked me is still present. I feel it just at the edges of my existence and manage to avoid it.   
Magnus’ palace is in between me and the road to the Coastal Domain. By now, he should have departed if everything went alright. I will be okay if I just avoid tripping a magical ward set by Helena.   
My arms and legs burn with exhaustion. I have trouble seeking out the magical barriers as I continue. Perhaps a break is in order.   
Catching my breath, I withdraw the water canteen I swiped from the encampment earlier. I stand next to a tree and hold my arm out to steady myself-  
And a magical ward crumbles under my touch. Helena’s magic burns as my hand comes into contact with it and I see a shower of sparks and lights.   
My breath leaves me in a startled gasp.   
I just set off one of her invisible barriers. She knows I am here.   
I move to leave, trying to plan where I can run to escape from her, but never get a chance. The magic of the barriers holds me in place and the woods around me comes alive with movement.   
“-meone is here!”   
The shout comes from my left. It is a woman’s voice, Helena, and I feel the strength of her magic as she draws nearer. My own magic is too strong to break the spell on me. I am rooted to my spot like a tree.   
Another voice sounds to my right. A man’s. Alain. “Find them!”  
I close my eyes, heart pounding in my chest-  
And suddenly arms are wrapped around behind me. A cold voice is registers right next to my ear.   
“Well look who I found...”  
I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. I would know that voice anywhere. My entire body turns cold.   
“Magnus.”


End file.
